


Zutara Month 2020 (Quarantimes Edition)

by cablesscutie



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Kid Fic, Light Angst, Old!Zutara, Rating May Change, Spoilers for Avatar: The Legend of Korra, The Princess Bride References, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zutara Month 2020, a rare dash of canon compliance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24034144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cablesscutie/pseuds/cablesscutie
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 95
Kudos: 325
Collections: Zutara Month 2020





	1. Flowers

Zuko started “courting” Katara a little bit by accident. 

Alright, completely by accident.

At some point after moving to Caldera City to serve as Southern Water Tribe Ambassador, Katara started wearing flowers in her hair. She wasn’t one for the fine jewelry that some of the Fire Nation court members favored, but when she started attending meetings and realized that the representatives from the Fire Nation, Earth Kingdom, and even the Northern Water Tribe were dressed more formally than she was. In an effort to blend in, she made herself some new robes and started tucking a flower or two into her bun each morning.

Zuko wasn’t even sure when he first noticed the difference. He just knew that eventually she had settled on a fire lily as her flower, and he’d started thinking of them as _her_ flowers. It was a strange association for a ruler to have with his country’s national flower, but honestly a lot of things about his home had started to remind him of his friends. Every time he visited the fire sages or walked through town and saw school children dancing on the side of the road with their friends, he thought of Aang. He couldn’t sit down at a heaping banquet table without thinking about how Sokka would’ve been gleefully stuffing his face and professing his undying love of meat. The gruff camaraderie among the returning soldiers reminded him painfully (pun intended) of Toph’s own caustic affection.

So he had grown used to being a part of the Avatar’s loving band of misfits, and it was a rough adjustment back to the formality of his own culture after being an exile for so long. In forgetting some of the finer points of etiquette, he had also somehow forgotten that not _all_ of his family’s emotional distance had been out of cruelty. Some of it had been about propriety, and while most families were in fact much warmer behind closed doors, one was to behave with _dignity_ at court. Particularly in the Dragon Throne room.

But then one day, Katara burst into the throne room just as he was about to have to call the meeting to order without her.

“Sorry, sorry!” she called, dashing down the carpet runner that led to the long low table where the necessary advisors were seated. She was dressed in court robes, but they were more dishevelled than her usual neat appearance, and she’d clearly done her hair at lightning speed. No hair loopies to be seen, and no flowers either, just the front sections pulled back with a ribbon.

“It’s alright,” he reassured her. “We haven’t started yet.” This was only barely true, but none of his advisors particularly felt like arguing with him on it. She smiled at him, and took the seat that had been left empty for her up front on his right. For a moment, the only sound in the throne room was the flames burning low in front of the throne and Katara catching her breath as nobody else in the room seemed to breathe or blink. 

While Zuko was definitely not his father, if it had been anyone else holding up his meeting, he’d probably be a little irritable, so the silence was tense as everyone else tried to guess whether there was going to be some kind of cutting remark. It made his skin crawl a little, so he cleared his throat and said, “Please help yourself to tea. Uncle sent a new blend he’s been working on.” She smiled again and the pot was passed to her by the fisheries minister, who pointedly informed her that,

“I’m afraid it’s cooled a bit since we first poured.” Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and her smile tensed at the corners as she registered the insult immediately.

“That’s fine,” she said. “I’m sure it’s still enjoyable enough.” Zuko felt a prickle of irritation at the man for shaming her after she’d already apologized to the room at large. The meeting really hadn’t been started, and _he_ was the Fire Lord. If anyone got to be annoyed about how time got wasted in this room, it was him. So he stood from his seat on the dais and descended the short steps.

“Allow me,” he said, holding his hand out for her teacup. A couple people stifled gasps at the Fire Lord offering his bending to such a menial task, but Katara handed the cup over without question. A moment later it was steaming gently in his palm and he passed it back, watching carefully as she let her fingers brush over it, testing to see if it was too hot to pick up.

After she’d accepted the cup and taken a small sip, she nodded her satisfaction and just a hint of a smile crossed Zuko’s face. Ignoring a couple disapproving faces, he returned to his throne and officially commenced the meeting. It was fairly boring, and mostly consisted of hammering out the specifics of fishing territory boundaries off the Fire Nation’s southern islands. The most heated the discussion got was when Katara got snippy about the borders needing to be constrained to prevent overfishing more than out of deference to national territories, but the fisheries minister had reluctantly backed her up, and the commerce chairman backed down.

Overall, it was a fairly boring meeting, which was probably why a bunch of nosy jerks decided to linger over rolling up their scrolls and shuffling notes as soon as they heard Zuko call for Katara to wait a second before she could dash off to her next appointment. Clearly, they were hoping for some drama, most likely a stern warning not to be tardy again. All of them were sorely disappointed and utterly scandalized when he simply plucked a fire lily out of the vase on the table and told her,

“You forgot one this morning.” He stepped in close, holding the flower out, and a murmur of shock rippled around the room as Katara took a step closer to Zuko and tilted her head to let him tuck the lily into her hair.

“Thanks,” she said, and Zuko could tell it was his turn to be blushing.

“You’re welcome. Have a good meeting.” 

She laughed at his awkwardness and said, “You too.”

By dinner that night, gossip about the Fire Lord’s incredibly public declaration of affection was the talk of the Caldera.


	2. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know this is technically the summer solstice, but there's a snowball fight and "snow" wasn't one of the prompts for the month, so it's staying!

Solstices were a big deal in the water tribes, and in the first year of his rule, Katara and Sokka invited Fire Lord Zuko to visit them for their favorite festival - the summer solstice. Hakoda tried to caution his children against it, saying that while their friend Zuko might appreciate the invitation, the Fire Nation might not. They had, of course, sent the letter off anyway. While they hadn’t spent a very long time hanging around the Fire Nation after the coronation, their short stay had been enough for them to develop a disdain for the stiff formality of the nobles. In their minds, it ought to be as simple as they wanted their friend to come visit them for a holiday, so they would invite him. If Zuko’s people would be too bothered by it, he would write back and tell them so, and that would be that.

All of them were right. Zuko’s advisers were in fact horrified at the thought of him going to the South Pole on the day of no sun. The idea of a Fire Lord so _humbling_ himself by attending a festival when his fire bending would be at its weakest and the water benders would be at their strongest was ludicrous to them. No amount of assurance on his part that the Southern Water Tribe was their strongest ally and that the chief’s children were his personal friends could get them past the impropriety. _Surely you can visit for the winter solstice_ , they urged, and Zuko had frowned and insisted that no, that was impossible. The Fire Lord visiting on the day of midnight sun would at best dampen any festivities with unease, and at worst be read as an outright threat. Plus, his friends hadn’t invited him to the winter solstice, they had invited him to the summer solstice, their favorite holiday. They had come to him when he’d invited them to the harvest festival, and so he owed them a visit. He’d had to order silence on the matter, which left a bad taste in his mouth, but he was determined not to let politics get in the way of his relationships.

He could’ve done with a more dignified greeting though. 

As he descended the gangplank, soldiers in dress uniforms flanking his entrance, Zuko raised a hand in greeting to Chief Hakoda and the elders and warriors assembled in the welcoming party. “Hello,” he called, beginning the short speech he had rehearsed all evening. He had agonized over the perfect words to express his gratitude and to affirm the new friendship between their nations. Only the young Fire Lord found himself immediately cut off by a snowball to the face. He and his soldiers turned in surprise to find Katara standing beside a small mountain of snowballs, another one already balanced in her palm. She was smiling brightly, but to his further confusion, she shouted,

“Warriors! Ready your weapons!” He went wide-eyed with panic, briefly convinced that he was still asleep on his ship, having a terrible nightmare.

Until the “warriors” revealed themselves: seemingly every child in the village emerged from behind the snow pile and grabbed a snowball, led by Sokka. Sokka’s battle cry was a simple, “Water Tribe!” but it incited the children to madness anyway. Zuko and his men found themselves overwhelmed immediately. He shot a few of the higher arcing snowballs with small, sharp flames that made them burst into sprinkles of snow over them, and the children were so delighted that the guards started doing the same.

A wayward snowball connecting with Bato drew the Water Tribe adults into the melee as well, elders cheering on their grandchildren and great grandchildren as they turned on their fathers. Loose sides started to form as the parents of the smaller ones went to help their tiny hands pack new snowballs and hoisted them onto shoulders to get a better vantage, while the parents of the older children fled to the fire benders’ side. One of them was Hakoda, who was settling into a bitter rivalry against his son, the two of them hurling snow and trash talk equally. He was the first to pass a snowball to Zuko and encourage him to fling it at Katara.

“Look alive, Fire Lord! My children are formidable opponents,” he said, darting away again to escape Sokka, who was chasing after him with what looked like a snowman’s whole head. 

“I thought we were friends!” Zuko shouted as he missed Katara by a mile and stooped to make himself another ball. 

“There are no friends in war!” she shouted back, before commanding a cluster of giggling girls to launch a well-aimed volley at him while he was still vulnerable. He turned his face away, and when he stood again, his next hit caught her in the chest. But Katara pursued Zuko relentlessly, her bending allowing her to pelt him with snowballs so rapidly that he could feel his robes growing cold and heavy with slush. 

All around him, his guards and the Water Tribe adults were starting to give in to fatigue, laying down on the ice to catch their breaths, some of them with victorious children standing over them in triumph. Sokka had been bested by the combined efforts of Hakoda and Bato, who had somehow managed to encase him in snow, and had set to decorating him while he continued to sputter insults and insist that his boomerang would be back to avenge him. It was with a creeping sense of dread that Zuko realized he was the last man standing on his side of the battlefield, and that while he’d been distracted by Katara, her child army had surrounded him and was slowly encroaching. He was done for. So when the next wave of snowballs came, he let the weight of his clothes drag him to his knees and looked around at the manically grinning children with exaggerated terror.

“Oh no!” he yelled so that everyone could hear him. “I am defeated!” Another couple of snowballs flew at him, and he let himself fling his arms up to protect his face. “Please, mighty warriors, show mercy!” He peeked out at Katara, who was having trouble muffling her laughter behind her mittens. She finally forced her expression into a frown just long enough to order the children to 

“Finish him!” 

With the final wave of snow, Zuko collapsed onto his back, declaring, “The Fire Lord is no more!” and closed his eyes, playing dead. Small voices started cheering, and he could hear the adults starting to get back up, laughing and clapping at the performance, but Katara’s laughter rang out above all of it, and he cracked one eye open to catch a glimpse of her face, flushed from cold and exertion, beaming at him.

After a moment of children crawling and jumping on him to test his deadness, Katara called them off and, still smiling, offered him a hand up, which he took gratefully. She took in his sopping clothes and chattering teeth, and her face softened into a more sympathetic expression. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you warmed up.” As she tugged him towards the village, she kept hold of his hand, and he refused to be the first to let go. “Thanks for playing along earlier. The kids really enjoyed it.” He smiled back at her.

“I had fun,” he admitted. “My advisors would’ve hated it, but I’ve really missed having fun like that these past few months.”

“Well I guess I’ll have to visit more often then.” His heart leapt in his chest.

“I’d like that,” he said, too sincere but not able to hold back.

“Okay,” was all she said in reply.

They walked in silence until it was time for them to part ways and change for dinner, but as she left him, Katara leaned up and pressed a warm kiss to his freezing cheek. “Happy solstice.”


	3. Chance Encounter

The waterbender finds him a month after he and Uncle open the Jasmine Dragon, and Zuko immediately wants to drown himself in the largest teapot they have. The way she glares back at him says she’d be all too happy to assist. He hopes against hope that she will flee, but the girl has always been too brave for her own good and deceptively aggressive. She stands her ground, refusing to leave the quiet corner she’s occupied, and eventually he is forced to approach and take her order before she gets impatient and causes a scene.

“Hello, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon,” he greets as usual, accompanied by a quick shallow bow. “My name is Lee, and I will be your server. Our specials today are the Oolong and Lemongrass teas, and the lavender cake.”

“What are _you_ doing here?” she hisses.

“Do you need another moment with the menu?” he asks, playing dumb. She grits her teeth into a farce of a smile and snaps the menu shut sharply enough that he flinches.

“I’ll have the jasmine tea. No cake, thank you.” He nods and accepts the menu, even though it is pointed at him like a weapon. Feeling her icy stare on the back of his neck, he scurries away to the kitchen and quickly tells Uncle to brew a fresh pot of jasmine tea. While he waits, he tends to tables as far away from the waterbender as he can get, aware every second of her eyes on him.

The bell on the kitchen window dings cheerfully, and Uncle pokes his head out to sing,

“Jaaaasmine in the moonlight, my love wears jasmine floooowers in her hair...” Zuko simultaneously wants to die of embarrassment and is genuinely afraid for his and Uncle Iroh’s lives as the waterbender’s eyes cut to the window and flash with instant recognition. Even worse, Uncle sees her too, and looks to Zuko with an inquiring lift of his brow.

“What brings our honored guest here?” Iroh asks when Zuko approaches to retrieve the pot.

“The spirits hate me,” he grumbles, and spins away to pour her a cup.

“You should tell her that the tea is on the house,” Uncle says to his back. “It is only polite, for an old acquaintance in our new home.” Zuko clenches his jaw, but this is neither the time nor the place to squabble with him about wasting time with hospitality.

“Uncle insists that your tea is on the house,” he says as he goes to place the cup on the table. The drink inside lurches, and spills across the table, and Zuko’s face flushes in embarrassment even though the waterbender makes no sound to draw attention to them and nobody looks up. “Apologies, miss,” he mutters, scrambling for the towel tucked into his apron.

As soon as his hand touches the puddle of tea, the liquid ices over, freezing his hand to the tabletop and effectively trapping him since there’s no way for him to escape without revealing his firebending.

“You didn’t answer my question. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” He gapes at her like a fish, fumbling for words. “ _Answer me_.”

“Please don’t go to the Dai Li,” he whispers in a rush, closing his eyes against her glower.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t.”

“This is my uncle’s second chance. This is the first time since my cousin died that he’s found peace, and I can’t be the thing that ruins it.” That was not the answer she expected, and she blinks, taken aback. It doesn’t hold her anger back for long though, and she reminds him,“You hunted us for _months_.”

“I know, but I’m not anymore. I haven’t been for a long time.” 

“Excuse me if I don’t believe that’s anything but a load of bison snot.”

“I’m not lying. I know I’ve done a lot of terrible things to you, but I’ve never lied,” he pleads. My uncle gave up everything to follow me when I was banished. There’s nothing I can do to make up for that, but at least he’s happy here.” She considers his words, thinking back to all their previous encounters, and finds he’s right. He was awful, but they’ve encountered much worse. If nothing else, Zuko has been up front with his nefarious goals. She feels the word “banished” stick in her mind, and finds herself intensely curious.

“What do you mean, ‘banished’?”

“My father said capturing the Avatar was the only way to cleanse myself of the shame of this,” he says, pointing to his scar. I’ve spent the past three years of my life trying in vain.”

“You’ve been banished for three _years_? What did you _do_?” She asks it with such horror, and Zuko knows she’s imagining all kinds of horrible acts he must’ve committed to earn such a punishment as a child.

Just like when he insisted that he’d always been honest with her, something in him rebels at the idea of her thinking him dishonorable, so he tells her “I questioned one of my father’s generals in a war meeting, so I was challenged to an Agni Kai. But it was my father who I’d disrespected the most by speaking out of turn, so he was the one that arrived to fight me.” 

“So you got the scar because you had to fight your own father?” Her face is still horrified, but it has shifted somehow. 

Zuko looks away as he says, “Not exactly. I refused to fight him, so he gave me this as a lesson, and banished me until I could restore my honor.” He chances another look at her face and sees that, as expected, she looks disgusted. It is a new experience for Zuko, however, to realize that she is disgusted on his behalf.

“He’s a monster,” she spits. “To do that to his own child? I didn’t realize even the Fire Lord could be so cruel.” His stomach instinctively rebels at her so clearly misunderstanding that he is _confessing_ , not seeking pity. She is somehow missing the parts of the story that are Zuko’s fault, where he ought to have shown dignity befitting a prince.

“Usually tradition would dictate that he kill me for such cowardice. Giving me a quest was an act of mercy.” The words sound more wooden than they had the last time he’d had this argument with Uncle, and Katara definitely doesn’t buy it. “Quitting a quest from the Fire Lord is an unforgivable insult,” he insists. “It would be impossible to overlook my actions again.” 

“He’d really hunt you down if he knew you weren’t looking for the Avatar anymore?” she asks. 

“He already is. My sister had been chasing us all over the Earth Kingdom until we made it here.” Katara rolls her eyes at the mention of Azula.

“Ugh. Yeah, us too. She’s kind of the worst.” 

Zuko huffs a bitter laugh. “That’s Azula for you.” They’re quiet for a beat, and it is immediately awkward. Zuko wonders if he’s allowed to just leave the conversation now, if their mutual disdain for Azula is enough for them to have agreed to pretend they never saw each other. Katara casts about for something else to ask him, not sure yet whether she’s supposed to fight him or let him go. 

Eventually she settles on asking, “So if your uncle has his tea shop, what are you going to do?” Zuko blinks.

“What do you mean?” Katara crosses her arms and scowls like she thinks Zuko is being intentionally difficult.

“I mean if hunting Aang isn’t your purpose anymore, what is?” Zuko had actually never considered that. He mulls it over for a moment, but comes up with nothing. It is surprising to find that he had not yet maxed out his capacity for shame as he is forced to admit, 

“I guess I don’t really have one. That kind of thing tends to blow up in my face.” He grimaces at the unintentional pun, and it makes Katara huff out a laugh against her will. 

“No secret passions then?” She is almost teasing him, and he can’t quite tell whether it is meant to be mean or friendly, so he is honest in response, studying his hands folded in his lap.

“The only thing I ever wanted was to serve my people. And apparently my father has always thought I was unworthy, so that’s not going to happen. I’ll just have to try not to mess up Uncle’s second chance.”

“That’s actually pretty sad,” she says, and means it. The sorrow in her voice makes his own chest tight. 

“Tell me about it. I’ll refill your tea.” He swipes her empty cup and disappears behind the safety of the counter to pour another cup from the pot, and Katara sits at her table and mulls over his story. It’s strange, how he had been following her and Aang and Sokka for so much of their journey and yet they knew so little about why. How had they never thought to question why another kid was the person charged with their capture? How had they never thought it odd that a prince was sent on a mission in a single small ship? All this time, she had assumed that Zuko was just the next in a long line of evil Fire Nation royalty, but what she knows of his life now is just sad. 

Like her and her friends, he had grown up in a war-torn world, and like them he had been chasing what he had been raised to believe was a noble destiny. What would she be if she’d been born into his life? After her mother’s death, what could she have become if not for the love and guidance of her family and tribe? She thinks of the Northern Water Tribe and how Gran-Gran ran away to the other side of the world to escape the very fate that Princess Yue had felt a duty to accept. Was Gran-Gran selfish for running away, or Yue cowardly for refusing to fight? No, she decided. They were equally brave, because each of them did what they believed was right. 

Was Zuko really the one to blame for believing what he’d been taught about his homeland? Was it wrong of him to be so devoted to honor and duty? Slowly, a shadow of an idea passes over her mind. She thinks it might be more than a little crazy, but she also thinks it might be the right thing to do.

When Zuko comes back, he places her tea in front of her, as well as a small cake she hadn’t ordered and bows quickly. “Uncle suggested that you might enjoy this.” He goes to back away, but her hand reaches out of its own accord and grabs his arm. “Lee, wait.” He freezes, and when she tugs at his elbow, he allows himself to be guided to the seat across from her. “You know,” she says quietly. “If you wanted to serve your people, I know somebody who could help you.” She holds his gaze until his eyes widen with realization. “It might not be how you always dreamed, but the war hurts everyone. Surely you’ve seen that by now.” 

She stares at him imploringly, and he fights through his initial flare of anger to consider her question honestly. He thinks of the crew of his ship, the men and women who had served under him for the first years of his exile, drowned in the freezing waters of the North Pole because Zhao couldn’t resist a chance to glorify himself. He thinks of the Earth Kingdom village terrorized by its own soldiers. He thinks of the division of young recruits he’d been banished for trying to save. Surely similar tactics had been in the years since, and Zuko wonders to himself how he could let himself lie down and accept that. Could he really just sit idly by while an entire generation of Fire Nation citizens was cut down by his father’s hunger for power? 

“Can you promise the Avatar won’t hurt the Fire Nation?” he asks at length. Katara chokes a little on a bite of her cake when he speaks, but a quick swig of tea quiets her cough.

“Vengeance isn’t really Aang’s thing, you know.” 

He thinks about freeing the Avatar as the Blue Spirit, and how the Avatar could’ve left him to Zhao’s men but had saved him instead. _Do you think we could have been friends too?_ “Yes,” Zuko whispers.

“Yes..?”

He feels a little bit like he’s not in his own body. He can’t believe that he’s doing it even as he tells her quietly, “Yes to all of it. Yes, I know the war is hurting my people. Yes, I know the Avatar isn’t vengeful. Yes, I’ll help him.” 

Katara can’t breathe. She wants to believe him, but the nagging possibility of a trap won’t leave her alone, so she says, “I have to go talk to the others before you can join us. But Aang is very forgiving, and he still needs a firebending teacher. I think he’ll agree. If he says yes, I’ll come back at sundown to collect you.” 

It doesn’t escape Zuko’s notice that this timing means that he will be weakening just as she grows stronger, but he is not afraid. He knows that the Avatar would not let her kill him in cold blood, and he has no plans to give them a reason to kill him in self defense. He nods. “I will have to tell my uncle, but he’s the most honorable person I’ve ever met. He won’t tell anyone else.” She nods. 

She leaves and goes back to camp to tell everyone. Toph has never met Zuko before, so she doesn’t have much to say besides expressing vague suspicion, but Sokka flips his lid. 

“Have you gone _crazy_?!” he explodes when she wraps up the short version of how she found Aang a firebending teacher. “It has to be a trap!”

“I really don’t think it is,” she insists. “I think he’s just been confused.” Sokka groans loudly at this and rolls his eyes theatrically.

“Oh no, _I_ know what this is.”

“Oh do tell,” says, rolling her eyes back and resting her hands on her hips.

“This is just like Jet all over again!” he accuses. Katara’s face flames bright red.

“It is _not_!”

“It so is! Some broody guy with weird hair tells you his tragic backstory and asks you to help him and you totally eat it up.”

“He didn’t ask me for help,” Katara argues. “It was my idea for Zuko to join us. All he wanted was for me to not give him and his uncle up to the Dai Lee.”

“And so you just _offered_ to hand over his creepy evil destiny.”

“He is _not_ evil _or_ creepy!” Sokka scoffs and turns to Aang.

“Can you believe this, Aang? She seriously thinks this guy has changed.” Katara turns to Aang as well, fixing him with a pleading look. He glances between the siblings, biting his lip nervously.

“I think she’s right, Sokka.” Katara beams, but Sokka cries in outrage.

“How can you possibly buy that?!” Aang looks away, but eventually sits down at their low dining table and says,

“There’s something you guys don’t know about Zuko.” The siblings and Toph are all ears immediately, crowding around the table as well. 

Aang tells them of Zuko saving him as the Blue Spirit when Katara and Sokka had been sick and he’d gotten captured by Zhao. “That must’ve been why he did it. If Zhao was the one to turn me over to the Fire Lord he would’ve had no way to go home. That’s so sad.”

“So you’re in?” Katara asks eagerly. Aang nods.

“That’s a pretty effed up childhood,” Toph says. “And I’d know. So, if he means it, I’m down to give him a shot.” Sokka pouts, but with a heavy sigh he relents.

“Alright, fine. But he is on thin ice, and if he so much as flips his ponytail out of line - it’s boomerang time.” They decide that Katara will take Toph to retrieve Zuko, because if it is a trap then he won’t have Aang, and Toph would be able to tell if he was lying. 

Meanwhile, back at the Jasmine Dragon, as Zuko and Iroh are closing up the shop, he tells his uncle that he’s leaving Ba Sing Se so that he doesn’t ruin Uncle’s new dream. Uncle immediately opens his mouth to argue against it, but Zuko pushes on. “I’ve abandoned hope of Father taking me back, but I decided it’s still my duty to try and save our people. At sundown, the waterbender will be back to collect me, and I’m joining the Avatar.” For a long moment, Uncle is speechless, and Zuko starts to worry that he had misinterpreted all of the gentle nudgings from the past years, the long rambling talks about destiny and balance and inner peace. And then Uncle begins to cry, and Zuko panics, rushing to his side, but unsure of what’s wrong in the first place, so he just hovers. “Uncle, I’m sorry. I - I don’t know what else to do. What-” he is cut off by a fierce bear hug that crushes the air from his lungs. Zuko finds himself melting into the embrace as though he were still a small child, and his own throat is tight.

“I am so proud of you, my nephew,” Iroh croaks. “We will pack immediately.” With horror, he realizes that Uncle means to abandon the Jasmine Dragon and come with him.

“No, Uncle,” he insists. “This is my destiny, and mine alone. After so long, you’re finally happy here. I could never ask you to give it up. You’ve already done so much for me. Please allow me to repay you just the smallest bit.” Uncle smiles warmly, and a rough, gentle hand settles on his cheek, brushing away tears Zuko hadn’t noticed.

“There is no debt between us, Prince Zuko. I have followed you all these years because I love you like my own son.” There is a sharp pain in Zuko’s chest, but it is not like the breaking he has felt so many times before. It feels like his heart has tried to grow so quickly it burst.

“Uncle-” 

“I have long awaited the day you were ready to hear this, and I think it has finally come. A father’s duty to his children is sacred. He is meant to love them unconditionally. When my brother burned you, he did not take your honor. He took his own.” 

Tears slide down Zuko’s cheeks, and his uncle pulls him back into his arms. “I love you too,” he chokes out. For long minutes, he clings, and Uncle pats his back and it all makes him feel pitifully young. He hasn’t been broken open like this since his mother disappeared, but this time it is different. It feels like excising pain, rather than piling it on. They separate as the sobs subside, and Uncle insists on brewing them both a pot of tea and helping Zuko pack his bag. He also refuses to let Zuko take all of his possessions.

“You should travel light. There is no need to take it all with you.” In truth, he and Uncle had not had much in the way of possessions since they left the Fire Nation, and all Zuko can really deem non-essential is a few books he had acquired for pleasure reading, his work uniform, and the one nice outfit he Uncle had splurged on for him to wear to festivals. He hadn’t worn it yet, and it was likely that if he ever made it back to Ba Sing Se so much time would have passed that it would be long outgrown. All the same, he understood the gesture’s intended meaning: Zuko still had a place here. For three years, he had been without a true home, but that would never be the case again.

When there is a knock on the door of the tea shop, Katara and Toph are welcomed with deep bows and words of gratitude from Iroh. It is still clear from their faces that both men have been crying. “Are you guys okay?” Katara asks uncomfortably. 

Iroh nods and looks at his nephew with such overwhelming love and pride. “Happy tears, Master Katara,” he assures them. 

“Truth,” Toph announces. “So, Sparky here wants to help the Avatar take down the Fire Lord?” Zuko flinches at her blunt words.

“I want to help the Avatar stop the war. I want to serve my people. Whatever that entails.” 

“Truth.” 

Katara notices the evasion, and narrows her eyes. “Even if it means we have to kill your father?” she presses. 

Zuko looks at the ground, but nods. “If that is what it takes to bring the world into balance...yes.” Iroh still looks proud, but it is a grim pride now. 

“Truth. Welcome to the club, Sparky.” Toph thumps him on the back, and he staggers.

“Welcome, Zuko,” Katara says. She averts her eyes as Zuko and his uncle embrace one last time, and exchange strangled goodbyes. 

As they walk away from the Jasmine Dragon and towards the rendezvous point with Sokka and Aang, Katara notices Zuko biting his lip to keep tears back. She links her arm around his and squeezes tight as he startles away from her touch. They might not be proper friends yet, but she knows what it is to leave your home behind, and how painful it is to say goodbye to a beloved parent. “You’ll see him again,” she whispers, and his breath catches. “I promise.” He wants to say he knows, but the earthbender will know if he lies, and he needs them to trust him. Joining the Avatar truly is his last chance, so he simply tells her, “I hope so.”


	4. Betrayal

The annual summit had become something of a family reunion for the far-flung members of Team Avatar. It wasn’t the only time of year that they tried to get together, but usually there were a couple faces absent when things inevitably got complicated. Unrest in the Fire Nation had kept Zuko, Suki, and Ty Lee from the fall festival Aang and the Air Acolytes held. A drought in the Earth Kingdom had called Katara and Aang away just before the summer solstice at the South Pole. Sokka and Hakoda got snowed in by a late blizzard and missed the Fire Lily festival. Uncle Iroh had come down with a nasty cold just in time for Toph’s birthday. The summit was the one event of the year so important that nobody missed it. 

As the Avatar, Aang was expected to be present to keep the peace between all the world leaders. Katara came along with Zuko and the Northern Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom ambassadors in the Fire Nation delegation. Hakoda always brought Sokka along for the educational opportunity and for the chance to get together with both of his children. Toph headed up security for the King Kuei, and always brought Iroh in tow. The host of the summit was supposed to rotate, and that year the world’s most influential figures were set to converge on Caldera City.

Zuko wasn’t handling the pressure well.

“Do you think these rooms will be okay for your dad and Sokka?” he asked Katara, wringing his hands as his eyes darted around the suite they were standing in.

“I _think_ that you definitely have several people whose job it is to decide which rooms are appropriate for your guests,” she said, crossing her arms.

“I know, I just...I don’t want to offend anyone. This is a big deal.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Uh huh…”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, shrugging. “Just that you seem a little overly concerned about my family. You know King Kuei and Chief Arnook are the only ones that would take offense to getting the wrong room, right? Dad and Sokka would happily pitch tents in the garden as long as the parties are good, and Aang is your best friend.”

“You’re my best friend,” he corrected. She rolled her eyes, but stepped closer to take his hand.

“And you’re mine.” He flashed her a thin smile that was so cute she had to kiss his cheek. “As your best friend _and_ your girlfriend, I think I need to call absolute _bullshit_ that this is about the summit.” Zuko opened his mouth to protest, but she barreled on. “This is about telling my father that we’re together.” His cheeks flamed red.

Another one of the pitfalls of everyone meeting up in scattered clumps was that sometimes it took a while for big news to make the rounds. Zuko and Katara had gotten together just before the gang’s annual Ember Island vacation, which meant that Aang, Sokka, Suki, and Toph had known almost immediately and tormented them through most of the week. Zuko had written his uncle an elated and panicked letter the very night they’d kissed, begging for advice. Katara had thought about writing to her father, but at the last second decided that it would be better said in person and swore Sokka to secrecy instead.

“Well, I mean, it’s -”

“Really nothing to get freaked out about,” she finished for him. “It’s just my dad. He’s not gonna like that we’re together because he wouldn’t like any guy I introduce him to, and it’s a dumb double-standard because he loves Suki, and I intend to tell him so.”

“But -” She grabbed his face and smushed his cheeks so that he couldn’t make any coherent words.

“ _Most importantly_ , our relationship is in no way contingent on my father’s approval, right?” she prompted, and when his expression was uncertain, she made him nod his head. “Great, I’m glad we had this talk,” she said, letting go of his face and turning to leave the suite.

“Yeah...” he said, grimacing at his surroundings one more time before following her.

As it would turn out, the whole thing turned into a disaster long before Sokka and Hakoda even saw their rooms. Katara went down to the port to welcome her family as soon as they disembarked, and the first thing that fell out of Sokka’s mouth after they greeted each other was, “So how’s prince kissy-face?” Instantly, their father’s sharp gaze fell on Katara, who glared ice daggers at her brother.

“Sokka!” His face shifted into panic, realizing that whatever hell their father decided to rain down on Zuko, Katara would make Sokka twice as miserable. 

Unfortunately for Zuko, her temper flaring up so quickly was essentially an admission of guilt, so by the time the trio met him on the palace steps, his warm hospitable smile was met with an overly-firm grip on his forearm and a stare that seemed to seek out every mistake he’d ever made. He bore it admirably, considering how scary Sokka and Katara knew their dad could be. Still, as soon as they were inside, he shot them both a confused and betrayed look before steeling himself once more for a truly excruciating evening.


	5. The Cave of Two Lovers

Katara manages not to think about what happened between her and Zuko in the crystal catacombs through the immediate aftermath of their escape from Ba Sing Se. A steady stream of adrenaline keeps her moving forward during their flight and the reunion with her father on the stolen Fire Navy ship. However, as soon as Aang is alive and she is ushered below deck and ordered to get some rest, she finds herself falling asleep only to be thrown into a dream of glowing green walls.

* * *

The cave she is in gives her a bad feeling, but she can’t place what she’s so dreading about being here. It’s giving her deja vu in the worst way, like there’s more than one thing she’s forgetting, and her brain is trying to find all the pieces of the puzzle without knowing where to start. She has a torch in her hand, but it isn’t lit. The ceiling has luminescent green crystals protruding from it in either direction, but she can’t remember which way she had come from or where she’s really going. Her heart starts to race, and she starts patting herself down to see if she has spark rocks on her to light the torch when she gets to the end of the crystals. She finds them, but as soon as she gets the torch lit, the light from the crystals fades, and she can’t see them stretching off into the distance. On the bright side, she can see the ground well enough to tell that her footprints were coming from her right, so she forges on to the left in hopes that if she continues her journey, the purpose will return to her.

This strategy proves problematic when the tunnel she is in opens into a larger cavern, and she is presented with two different openings on the other side, leading in different directions. She bites her lip, turning desperately through her mind for some hint of directions, but she can’t recall anything. What she does have, is a shadow of a memory urging her to extinguish her light. The thought paralyzes her for another moment. _What if this is just a weird trick and when I put out the light something comes and eats me?_ She doesn’t know for sure, but she has a feeling that she’s encountered enough weird places to believe that the caves could plant suggestions in her mind like that.

Still, she weighs how much safer it could possibly be to wander into random tunnels with a limited amount of time in her torch’s life. If anything in here wants to eat her, there’s not much chance of her getting away without getting hopelessly lost. _I guess I’m going with my gut and hoping it’s not sentient cave magic_. She steels herself, and then stubs the flame of her torch out in the dirt. Time seems to stretch as she stands in the darkness, holding her breath as she waits to see if any terrible creatures are going to emerge to devour her. Instead, her eyes begin to adjust to the darkness.

And then they adjust more than should be possible underground, shadows of rocks slowly fading into view, washed in low greenish light. Staring up at the ceiling, she feels her mouth gape open at the path of crystals veering clearly into the right tunnel, leaving the other one dark. _Well that’s either exactly what I’m looking for or certain doom_ , she thinks, but that same echo of a memory returns and pushes her towards the glowing tunnel. She follows it, trying to force herself to breathe deeply. Her stomach is filled with a fluttery feeling that should be anxiety but isn’t quite unpleasant enough. Curiosity drives her forward, obeying the apparent muscle memory of this path.

Time blurs as she walks beneath the crystals, losing herself in the scuff of her feet on the dirt. She’s not sure when the sound of water starts to creep in, but all at once she is able to distinguish a roar above the soft echo of her tired breaths. When she rounds the final bend and sees the tunnel widening again, she has to stop herself from running towards the bright light. She is so sure she has arrived at the end, but when she emerges, it is just another tunnel, taller than the paths she took to get there. The extra light is coming from the massive clusters of crystals glowing on the floor, ceiling, and walls. As she takes in her surroundings, that initial feeling of apprehension comes back. Her heart races.

The sound of approaching footsteps has her on high alert, and she looks about to see where they might be coming from. The walls are notched with alcoves that could lead to any number of other tunnels, and the sound echoes too much for her to tell where it originates. So she waits. And then all at once, a man emerges from the shadows, moving quickly, and she crouches to pick up a sharp chunk of crystal that might do as a weapon in a pinch. He is breathing heavily, and looks around wildly, clearly expecting to find something, and she fears she had made the wrong choice not turning and following her own footsteps out of the cave. Then, he calls, “Oma!” and recognition sings in her bones. She had not realized that she did not know her own name until he spoke it.

Oma steps out from her hiding place, leaving her weapon behind, and he whirls to face her at the slightest shift of her feet. “Oma!” he exclaims again, joyfully. It makes her smile despite her continued confusion, just to know that the sight of her can bring so much happiness. “You’re still here. I’m so sorry I’m late,” he pants, rushing towards her.

“It’s okay,” she reassures him. In the back of her mind, she worries, _how late was he?_ What would have happened if he had been on time? How long had she dawdled in arriving herself? Would he have thought she wasn’t coming and turned back? Would she have never seen him again?

 _Again?_ Oma wonders, and as the man comes closer, the whisper in her mind tells her that yes, his gait and figure are familiar to her. Really it isn’t until he’s nearly close enough to touch and she can see part of his face clearly in the green light that she comes up with the name for him: Shu. She can’t shake the feeling that he has another name too, and that there’s something off about his face, but she shakes the feeling away. That can’t be right. He looks perfect, his skin smooth and soft, a warm smile spread across his lips. Lips that are headed right for her face to kiss her.

She startles away slightly, but his hands have already reached her, and the rest of her body folds into his embrace easily. Oma hides her face in his neck to buy herself time. She doesn’t know why Shu had tried to kiss her, but the longer she feels the warmth of his arms around her, the more she becomes confused at her rejection of his kiss instead. The feeling of their bodies pressed together is starting to settle her, the anxious questions she has been pondering resolving themselves. This is what she had been searching for. This is safe.

When she pulls back, she has composed herself enough to return his smile before his expression becomes more serious.

“I think my father is starting to get suspicious of my absences,” he says, and she feels fear prickle at the back of her neck.

“Do you think he knows you’re here?” she asks. “Could someone have followed you?” She looks into the other tunnel behind him nervously, but he shakes his head.

“Even if he sent someone after me to the entrance, they would never be able to find the crystal path.” His hand reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear. His warm, rough fingers brush her cheek, and she shivers. “Nobody cynical enough to work for my father would have enough faith to give up their torch.” She thinks back to frantically lighting her own torch earlier, and feels a stab of guilt when she realizes his hands are empty. The words come to her unbidden:

“Love burns brightest in the dark.” He smiles at her, and she feels proud, like she has proved herself somehow - or at the least made up for her lack of faith on the way here.

“Yes, exactly,” he agrees, and his hands cup her face so gently. The world tips, or at least his face does, and then there is warmth and pressure against her mouth. It is a brief kiss, barely long enough for her eyes to close before he is pulling away again, and Oma finds herself dropping her unlit torch to reach for his tunic, needing to keep him close. Warm breath gusts across her face; he is more out of breath than he should be. She isn’t sure she’s breathing at all anymore. “I love you,” he says, and she has to swallow her heart back down into her chest before she can tell him,

“I love you too.” Their next kiss is more passionate, and she wraps her arms around his neck to keep him from moving away. A hand spreads across her back, and the heat burning through the fabric of her dress makes her sigh into his mouth. His other hand threads into the hair at the base of her skull, cradling her head gently as their lips push and pull against each other. Shu pulls away from her with a soft gasp, and then his lips brush across her cheek to reach her ear and whisper,

“Being without you feels longer each time.”

“I missed you too,” she confesses, as if he might not know from the way she held him. He kisses just below her ear, and then leans their foreheads together. She hums happily.

“You,” he says, “are like the moon. Even when I can’t see you, I can feel your pull.” For this, she kisses him again, brief but lingering.

“And you are like the sun,” she tells him. “You make everything bright and warm.” He smiles and proves her right.

“I swear, the last day of this war will be the last day I live without you.” Even as the thought occurs to her, she feels that it will be impossible, but she asks anyway.

“Why wait?” Excitement and fear buzz electric under her skin. “Run away with me.” Shu’s grin broadens, and his eyes spark.

“You would do that?” he asks, voice hushed with awed disbelief. She nods, and he kisses her, clumsy and laughing. “Then next time we meet, bring with you anything you cannot part with, and we’ll go.” Her hand brushes over his left cheek, fingers pressing at the skin under his eye as if expecting it to transform into something else before her eyes. Memory is more insistent suddenly, warning her that something terrible is coming.

“Then we should leave immediately. The only thing I cannot bear to part with is you.”

“I have to arrange a few things,” he says, and she wants to insist _no no no we have to leave right now, before...something._ “But it will be just a few more days, and then we will have all the rest of them together.” Oma opens her mouth to speak, but instead, he is kissing her again, and Katara wakes up.

* * *

She is disoriented as she squints through the sunlight flooding her cabin. It is brighter than she had expected, and her eyes sting. Awake, the memories that had tried to break through her dream assert themselves, and her breath catches as she realizes the crystal catacombs had become the Cave of Two Lovers. Katara still remembers the tragic legend of Omashu’s name, and her heart aches for Oma as she remembers how the story ended: with Shu’s death and a grief-stricken Oma forcing the end of the war with her earthbending. In the end, Shu had kept his promise, albeit tragically. The last day he lived without Oma had been the last day of the war.

She closes her eyes against the sudden prick of tears in her eyes, and Shu’s face passes across her memory, only - _No_. It is not truly Shu’s face, she realizes, recalling the gleam of gold eyes under green light, the feel of a strangely unmarked cheek. Shu had worn the face that would be Zuko’s if she had healed him. Her chest burns with shame and anger at the memory of her offer and how easily he had helped his cruel sister instead. Katara is embarrassed by her own brain cooking up something like that. Clearly what happened with her and Zuko is completely different. They are not some star-crossed lovers - he's terrible, and she will never forgive him. But still, she feels the sorrow washing over her, and in the privacy of her room, she gives herself one moment to be foolish enough to cry for what might’ve been.


	6. Family

Something small and fast barreled into the back of Fire Lord Zuko’s legs and made him nearly faceplant on his way into a commerce meeting. He lurched forward, and the nobleman who had been chattering away at him looked behind them in alarm. Both men were surprised and relieved to see that the tiny assailant was none other than Princess Kya, who clung to her father’s robes and said in a rush,

“Daddydaddydaddy! I learned _three_ new forms today!” Zuko smiled broadly and scooped his daughter up in his arms.

“Well I guess we’ll have to start calling you Master Kya soon, won’t we?” he asked, continuing down the hallway. She puffed up a little at that, clearly liking the sound of the title.

“Mm hm,” she agreed, and started wiggling to be put down. “You gotta see!” Zuko put her down, but they had nearly arrived at the doors to the throne room, and he was supposed to start the meeting in just a moment. He crouched in front of her and smoothed a hand over her wild hair, and her face fell, knowing what was coming.

“I’m sorry, turtleduck,” he said softly, trying to temper the pained expression pulling at his face. “There are people waiting for me in this meeting right now.”

“ _I’m_ waiting for you right now!” she protested, crossing her arms and stomping her little foot. His heart fluttered for just a second at how much like her mother she was. The nobleman shuffled uncomfortably next to them, before continuing on alone to duck into the room.

“I promise you’ll get to show me later, and you will have my undivided attention,” Zuko said, trying to meet her eyes. Kya turned her head away, the same as Katara always did when she was starting to cry and didn’t want to.

“Fine,” she said, her little voice wavering ever so slightly. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but she stormed off, and the guards opened the throne room doors for him to make his entrance to the meeting. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her angry with him, but there was no time to chase after her, so he guiltily turned to his work, hoping that she’d at least find her mother and get attention from her more competent parent.

* * *

Zuko’s attention got dragged away from his advisors’ latest batch of reports when the door to his study opened and Izumi poked her head in.

“Hey Dad?” she asked. His brow furrowed in concern. As the oldest and most level-headed, Izumi was the least likely to interrupt him.

“Hey, is everything okay?” She nodded, but shuffled closer to his desk, seeming nervous about whatever it was she needed to speak with him about. “Are you sure about that?”

“It’s just kind of embarrassing,” she muttered, scuffing the toe of her shoe back and forth over the floor. Zuko had a searing, blinding fear that he was about to be asked a question about _boys_. Just the memory of his own awkward attempts at dating made his palms start to sweat. He’d hoped that Izumi’s love life would fall squarely on Katara’s shoulders, but -

“I’m having a really hard time with my history homework. Can you help me with it?” He relaxed. Homework he could absolutely do. The kids’ education, particularly history and literature, had always been more his responsibility. Katara had never cared to learn much about the finer points of Fire Nation poetry (“What do I care who Blah-blah, son of Blah, son of Blah the Greater, conqueror of Wherever stabbed in a battle two thousand years ago?”) and the pre-unification history was pretty muddy if you hadn’t grown up around it.

“No problem, Zumi. After dinner we can sit down and...what?” She was looking at him with a disappointed expression.

“I was kind of hoping we could talk now?” Zuko gestured at the stack of scrolls piled next to him.

“I really can’t stop with this now. I have to at least look at all of them before my last meeting, but later -”

“It’s kind of due really soon.” He raised an eyebrow at his daughter.

“How soon is ‘soon’?” She looked away again before she admitted,

“Afternoon lessons.” He felt a twinge of annoyance and a pain starting behind his eye.

“I can’t just drop everything because you didn’t do your homework, Izumi,” he said sternly.

“I tried to finish it!” she protested. “But I couldn’t, it doesn’t make any sense!” He wanted to help, he really did, but Izumi had also created this problem for herself and he couldn’t just slack off on important duties to bail her out with her tutor.

“You should’ve told me when you first started having trouble with it. I really can’t do anything now. Can you ask your mother?” Izumi scowled and crossed her arms.

“I’m not a total idiot, I already did. It’s all really old stuff, she _said_ to ask you.”

“You’re very smart, sweetie,” he tried, but she scoffed at him.

“If you’re just going to baby me, I’ll go ask the librarians instead.” He sighed, and hung his head, wishing he had more time or better options.

“That sounds like a good solution.”

“Fine,” she said tersely and spun on her heel, striding back out of his office, shutting the door behind her in what couldn’t be considered a slam, but was pointedly firmer than usual - precise as always, even in her fury. Zuko reached to reheat his pot of tea and resumed his reading.

* * *

“Roku, let your father sleep,” Katara’s muffled voice came through the crack in the bedroom door where her son had started to poke his head through. Through the fog of sleep, Zuko wanted to tell her to let him in, but the mere thought of having to stand up from the comfortable bed was exhausting.

“But I wanna play,” Roku whined.

“You have plenty of other people to play with. Go find your sisters or your grandfather.”

His son was a little louder when he said, “I want Dad. He said when we were on vacation he’d take me to the carnival.”

“The carnival is going to be here all summer. The first day of vacation, we let Dad rest. It’s the same thing every year.”

“But -”

“No more ‘buts’. Your father needs to catch up on his sleep, and frankly so do I. If you really can’t wait to go do things, see if Grandpa or Izumi will take you to the boardwalk.”

“They’re playing Pai Sho.” Zuko felt a pang of sympathy at that. His uncle and eldest daughter could play for hours.

“Then I suppose you’ll somehow have to amuse yourself with your other sister and a room full of toys. It’s hard being a prince, but I’m sure you’ll survive this.” Her voice took on a sardonic twist, and shame burned in his chest at the thought of her scolding their children for wanting his attention. It made him think of his own mother, forever having to drag his attention away from chasing Ozai’s approval in vain again and again. The idea of his wife having to run interference between him and the kids raised every shallowly buried fear of turning into his father. Tears burned hot behind his eyelids, and he gripped the sheet tightly, trying to regulate his shaky breaths.

He heard Roku trudge off down the hall with a heavy sigh and the bedroom door slid open and shut. “I know you’re not asleep over there,” Katara said sternly. “So you might as well sit up and tell me what’s wrong so we can take a nap before dinner.” Zuko sniffled and rolled over onto his back, but didn’t sit up. His body felt too heavy, and he didn’t think he could say this looking at her.

“I’m failing them,” he said hoarsely. There was a rustle of fabric as Katara undid the ties of her dress and draped it over a chair.

“Tui and La, Zuko, where did you get that crazy idea?” she asked. He knew the exasperation in her voice was a little bit forced, trying to lighten the mood. They both knew exactly where he got that idea. He heard the metallic plink of Katara pulling the pins out of her hair and dropping them onto the vanity.

“I spent so long afraid that I would end up cruel like my father, I think I forgot how bad it hurt when I was younger and he just wasn’t interested.”

“You’re not disinterested,” Katara protested, finally making it to the bed. She gently pried the sheet out of Zuko’s hand and crawled in on his side of the bed, forcing him to wiggle into the middle to make room. Settling on her side, she rested a hand on his chest, the warmth and pressure soothing even as it seemed to break open the tight ball of hurt inside him. “You are a great father,” she insisted. “I promise you are not going to ruin our children or drive them away or whatever other horrible things your brain has cooked up, okay?” He nodded, even as he could feel tears running down his temples and into his hair, blinking at the fuzzy darkness of the ceiling.

Katara’s hand cupped his cheek and turned his head to face her. It was hard to make out her features with his blurry vision and the dimness of the room, but he’d spent so much of his life looking at her by this point that just the suggestion of looking was enough. “We’re both busy,” she reminded him. “Maybe you a little more than me, but I’ve missed my fair share of bending demonstrations and fun outings too. Remember the first time I went away on a relief mission when Izumi was little?” The memory was fuzzy to Zuko, but he vaguely remembered a very sad couple of weeks where a very mopey Izumi was camped out in his office with her coloring supplies and threw terrible fits every night at bedtime.

“A little. I should’ve done more to make up for it, but I was still working all the time. We missed you so much.” She hummed, and her fingers drifted up to comb through his hair.

“Well I remember very clearly how when I came back she spent the next week pretending that she didn’t know who I was. She’d spent the whole time I was gone throwing tantrums about me not being around to sing to her at night and as soon as I could again, she wouldn’t stand for anyone but you to do it.” Zuko wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her a little closer. Their feet tangled together.

“What great wisdom are you trying to impart here? That we’re both awful parents? Should we just hand them over to Uncle now while they still have a chance?” She gave a small tug on his hair, but huffed a trace of a laugh.

“Absolutely not,” she said. “My point is that our children are needy and dramatic. Also, I went _years_ without being able to see my father, and even when it made me angry at him, I always loved him and I never doubted that he loved me. We make as much time for them as we can, and sometimes it isn’t enough for them, but I promise you they only miss you so much because they think you’re so wonderful.” As she spoke, thoughts of his father’s disdain faded, and he thought of Katara and Sokka embracing their father after the prison break at the Boiling Rock, the pride with which Sokka had watched his father prepare for battle, the affection in Katara’s voice when she told Zuko about his latest letter.

“That’s what I want,” he whispered. “For them to know. Always.” She brushed a soft kiss over his lips.

“They do.”


	7. Wisdom

Bolin and Mako unexpectedly got a second chance at meeting their idol when Korra decided to pay a visit to her former waterbending master, Katara. The brothers had tagged along with Korra and Asami on their trip to visit Korra’s parents, and now that they were getting ready to head back to Republic City, Team Avatar needed to make one more stop. They set off for Master Katara’s house right after breakfast to catch the best sunlight, and it was as pleasant a journey as anyone could really expect at the South Pole. Asami’s Satomobile was warm with the top up, and sunlight sparkled off the ice. When the house came into view, there was an inviting curl of smoke coming from the roof.

“Oooh, I really hope she’s making five flavor soup,” Bolin said, looking like he might just drool at the thought.

“Master Katara is an esteemed warrior, Bolin,” Korra said, shooting a glare over her shoulder. “This isn’t a trip to grandma’s house.”

“But she _is_ a grandma!” he argued. “Grandma’s always have delicious food, that’s like their whole thing.” Mako put a hand on his shoulder and leaned around him to promise Korra,

“I won’t let him ask her for soup.”

“ _Thank_ you.” Asami laughed.

“I never thought I’d see _you_ giving a lecture on manners.”

“Oh screw manners,” Korra scoffed. “But trust me, if you piss her off you’re gonna be there awhile. Talk about a lecture.”

“Okay so everybody be on your best behavior,” Mako announced, as though this information was necessary for everyone in the group, and not just targeted at his brother. Korra and Asami faced forward again to conceal their eye rolls.

The Satomobile’s snow tires crunched to a halt outside the house, and the four of them piled out. Korra waited around for a moment to see if Master Katara would come out to investigate the noise, but there was no sign that anyone heard them. She did hear laughter inside the house though, so she figured that it wasn’t too rude of her to just poke in like she used to when she was studying.

“Hey Master Katara,” she called, poking her head around the door flap. “It’s your favorite student!” The laughter cut off abruptly, and there was a clatter of pottery being hastily set down. Korra had just curiously inched her way inside the door, the others crowding in behind her, when she realized who the other person in the living room was.

“Lord Zuko!” Bolin shrieked, followed by some sounds that resembled a gasping fish as Mako told him to,

“Breathes. Remember to breathe this time. Just be cool.”

“Cool, cool. Yeah, I can do cool,” Bolin wheezed. “The coolest” Korra was blinking at her flustered teacher as she hastily bent spilled tea back into cups, handing them off to the parka-clad man who was in fact Lord Zuko. In his palms, the cups started to steam again, and he set them back on their saucers. Both old masters were blushing furiously.

“Interesting,” Asami mused, a knowing smile on her face.

Lord Zuko muttered something that sounded like “Nice timing, Twinkletoes,” and Katara swatted at his arm, shushing him.

“Avatar Korra, what a nice surprise!” Master Katara chirped too brightly. She quickly turned her back, making herself busy with bowls. “And you brought friends, how nice. Come in, dears. Would you like some soup? You must be cold.”

“Oh, would we ever!” said Bolin, pushing through the crowd and excitedly following the old woman to the pot hanging in the hearth. Mako pinched the bridge of his nose, but followed his brother anyway. Lord Zuko briefly looked away from Korra’s stare to make a sympathetic expression at him. When he turned back to her gaze, he seemed to flinch, and it shook Korra out of her daze. What about _her_ could frighten someone like Lord Zuko? Sure she was the Avatar, but she was barely an adult. He had ruled a nation for almost an entire lifetime - Korra wasn’t even totally sure if she had to file taxes.

Master Katara returned with the boys, and Bolin and Mako gave bowls of soup to Korra and Asami, while Katara handed one to Lord Zuko, who tried to protest, until she narrowed her eyes at him and asked, “Is there something wrong with my cooking?”

“Of course not, my moonflower,” he said hastily, taking a quick sip of the soup. Master Katara froze. “Everything you make is delicious.” Realizing the stunned silence that had fallen over the room, Lord Zuko glanced at the assembled young people and their slack-jawed expressions (except Asami, who just looked smug). He winced. “Ah. Er, I mean. Good job, pal?” Katara made a frustrated huffing noise as she sat down beside him, but her frown kept wanting to turn up into a fond smile.

“You couldn’t be cool to keep from falling through the ice,” she teased.

“So, you guys are…” Korra trailed off, making a vague hand motion between them.

Master Katara seemed to compose herself at last, and admitted, “Yes, we are.” Korra’s eyes widened in alarm as a terrible thought occurred to her.

“But you weren’t when I was…” she trailed off, hand pressed to her chest, like she was expecting the spirit of Avatar Aang to erupt out of her and level the house.

“No!” Katara and Zuko both insisted, leaning forward as though they might have to comfort the new Avatar.

“Aang and Katara have been my dearest friends for nearly all our lives,” Lord Zuko said, looking at Korra sadly. “I would have been more than satisfied with that until the day I died.”

“But my husband passed away much sooner than any of us had expected,” Katara told them, and Korra realized suddenly how much strength it must’ve taken to train her, just to _look_ at her, when she was the living marker of how long Katara had been alone. “And I may look ancient to all of you, but I have a lot of life left to live. There’s been plenty of time for things to change.”

“So after all that time, you just suddenly fell in love?” Bolin asked, eyes full of wonder.

“The love was always there,” Zuko said, folding Katara's weathered hand between his own. Asami smiled at them softly, and then turned her eyes to Korra.

“It just changed,” she said. Zuko nodded, a pleased smile spreading across his face.

“Exactly. My uncle was a very wise man,” he told them, the cadence of his voice shifting, slowing and growing raspier as he traced the familiar pattern of Iroh’s voice. “And he once told me that ‘even though the poets so often compare love to fire, it is more than that. It is not just burning desire; like water it also comes in many forms, and is changeable, always pushing and pulling. It is freeing and surrounds us all, like air. It is steady and strong like earth.’ That is what makes it so wonderful.”

When the team left after lunch, they were all much quieter than when they arrived, the former Fire Lord’s words sitting with them as they considered their own messy, evolving relationships. The four of them had been such an odd tangle at first, but through it all there was love, flowing and shifting, but always warm and present. As Korra looked out the window, Master Katara was holding onto Lord Zuko’s waist, his arm draped over her shoulders as they both waved goodbye to their guests. When she waved back, she felt her spirit settle.


	8. Movie Night

The movie part of movie night had been fun as always, with Katara and Sokka insisting on _The Princess Bride_ because it was one of their favorites. However, things had gone downhill after the movie as the group dissolved into the inevitable fucking around and incessantly quoting the film. Almost immediately after the credits had finished, Sokka had sprinted to Zuko’s room and come back with the lightsabers he kept crossed on the wall. Despite Zuko’s protest that,

“Those are decorative!” Sokka took a swipe at him with the blue one, and tossed the red one his way. Katara had to jump back out of range when he ducked, and when Sokka made another wild swing, Zuko had to pick up the lightsaber to parry the strike away from her again. He smiled at her over his shoulder. “I’ll save you from the Dread Pirate Roberts.” They both stepped into the middle of the living room, where Suki had hastily shoved the coffee table out of the way and Aang crowded onto Toph’s bean bag, practically vibrating with excitement. The two young men eyed each other for a moment before Sokka flipped the switch on his saber, bringing it to life with a crackle. Zuko did the same.

“You seem a decent fellow,” Sokka said. “I hate to kill you.”

“You seem a decent fellow,” Zuko replied, a smile fighting its way onto his face. “I hate to die.” 

They had watched the sword fight between Wesley and Inigo so many times (including rewinding to watch it three times that night) that at first, they did a remarkably good job of mirroring the fight. They were keeping pace with each other well until Zuko managed to back Sokka up to the couch and forced him up onto the squishy cushions, where his balance suffered until he righted himself. Zuko complimented him on his technique and they switched lines, Sokka grinning and saying,

“I thought it fitting considering the rocky terrain.”

Suki and Katara had retreated to the safety of the bar stools at the kitchen counter (and the wine), and watched in amusement. 

“Get him, baby!” Suki encouraged. She threw an arm over Katara’s shoulder and shook her head. “Our boys are ridiculous.” Katara wanted to protest that Zuko was not _her_ boy, at least nothing like how Sokka was Suki’s, but decided against it. Even if it was only for a moment, it was a pleasant thought that he could be. Sokka hopped back onto solid ground, and backed into the center of the room again. 

“Unless the enemy has studied his Agrippa,” Zuko said, and the girls watched Sokka’s face turn into an affronted gape when his roommate jumped and executed an elegant flip. “Which I have.” He looked so damn smug as he pointed his ridiculous glowing sword, and Katara had to stifle a helpless giggle into her glass. Seeing him have fun, seeing him _happy_ got under her skin in the best way, still.

When Sokka lunged back into the fight, it was clear he was trying to win for real, rather than copying the film, and Zuko pressed forward too, a frown of concentration on his brow.

“I admit that you are better than I am,” Zuko said, out of breath but almost laughing as they continued to cross blades.

“Then why are you smiling?” Sokka asks him. “I thought you were never happy.”

“Because I know something you don’t know,” Zuko said.

“And what is that?” Sokka asked, sounding far more nervous than Wesley had in the movie. His roommate had hidden depths, and he had a sneaking suspicion that now was about to be one of those times where he found himself utterly confused by the guy. Zuko smiled wickedly.

“I am not left-handed,” he said, and fluidly swapped the light saber to his other hand. 

From there the fight dissolved almost immediately, as it only took a few blows for it to become clear that Zuko was not, in fact, just keeping up with the lines and was actually better right-handed. Sokka turned tail and ran, wedging himself between Katara and Suki, where he knew he would be safe. Katara rolled her eyes and abandoned her seat to go to walk around into the kitchen, and Suki laughed, and tugged at her boyfriend’s arm until he sat on her lap.

“Don’t worry, _I’ll_ protect you,” she cooed. Zuko offered his lightsaber to Suki.

“Sure you wouldn’t rather take a stab at it?” Sokka and Toph groaned at the terrible joke, but Aang tumbled out of the beanbag laughing and Katara had to stifle a tiny laugh herself.

“Maybe I will,” Suki said, looking at her boyfriend appraisingly. “I could probably take him.” Sokka got out of her lap and brandished the lightsaber. 

He waggled his eyebrows at her, and said “I don’t know about this. There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours.”

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna kick your ass now,” Suki said, and took the offered weapon. Zuko and Toph joined Katara in the kitchen space, Zuko rummaging in the fridge for a beer, and Toph feeling around in the snack cabinet. When Zuko stood back up, Toph barked,

“Farm boy, fetch me that popcorn,” and pointed in the general direction of the cabinet. He rolled his eyes, but handed her a packet of microwave popcorn and said,

“As you wish.” He met Katara’s eyes over Toph’s head and saw her shaking her head.

Toph and Aang took over Katara and Suki’s bar stools to munch on their popcorn while the fight in the living room raged on, and Katara and Zuko leaned on the counter sipping their drinks. Katara finished her drink, and was considering pouring herself another when a better thought occurred to her.

“Farm boy,” she said, and Zuko turned to her immediately, eyebrow raised. “Pour me another glass.” His eyes drifted to where the bottle was right by her elbow, and she could see his throat move as he swallowed, picked up on the nervous shuffle of his feet before he stepped closer to reach for the wine. She didn’t lean back, just letting his warm body press into her personal space, tilting her head back to keep watching his face as he kept his eyes fixed intently on the bottle. A thrill went through her at the feeling of his fingers brushing against hers as he steadied her hold on the glass while he poured.

“As you wish,” he said quietly, before moving back, but not quite as far away as he’d been before.

He hadn’t said it quietly enough apparently though, because Toph immediately shattered the warm moment by making loud retching noises.

“What?” They both asked, defiant.

“That was _so_ _gross_ ,” she said.

“He said it to you too,” Katara argued.

“That’s different, I’m basically his little sister.”

“I don’t see how it was any grosser than Sokka talking about Suki’s breasts,” Zuko said, gesturing at the couple that had apparently decided to call it a draw and make out on the couch instead.

“Nah, I respected that,” Toph dismissed. “This,” she gestured in the direction of the very small space between Katara and Zuko, “is just mushy and pathetic.” Zuko blushed and looked away, grumbling, “Whatever. It was just a joke.” 

Katara felt cold and hurt at his denial of what had felt like such obvious tension between them. No longer wanting to be so close to him, she pushed away from the edge of the counter and started fishing around in cabinets. “Start the broiler?” she asked, dropping the movie thing. “I want nachos.” She was already to the fridge to grab the cheese when he answered her.

“As you wish.” His voice was louder than last time, but just as gentle. A flare of frustration rose in her. What was he doing?

“Oh vomit,” Toph complained again. “We have innocent eyes here, do _none_ of you have any shame?”

“Toph, you are blind as a bat and hardly innocent,” Zuko said flatly.

“I’m talking about Twinkletoes!” Katara turned from assembling the nachos to look at Aang, who said, “I think it’s sweet,” around a mouthful of popcorn puffing his cheeks out like a chipmunk. She felt her face flaming and a creeping sense of embarrassment.

Sokka and Suki rejoined the group just as the nachos were ready to go in the oven.

“Have I ever told you you’re my favorite sister?” Sokka asked when he saw the tasty snacks being prepared.

“You could stand to say it more often,” she said, nudging the oven door shut with her hip and going back to the fridge to dig out the toppings. The sour cream was still good, and she and Suki has brought guac with them, but when she opened the salsa at the back of the fridge, it looked...suspicious. Ugh, boy kitchens were scary places. Quickly shutting the lid again before any weird smells could escape, she placed the jar in the sink for the boys to deal with after they’d left. “Zuko, can you open a new salsa?” she asked without thinking, then found herself a little bit glad she hadn’t when a pleasant shudder ran down her spine at his answering, “As you wish.” Toph retched again.

“Dude, come on,” Sokka complained. “We’ve _talked_ about this.” About her? About how Zuko treated her? Her heart skipped, a warm hope temporarily overshadowing Katara’s irritation at the thought of her brother interfering in her love life. Zuko popped the lid off a jar he produced from the back of the cabinet, and looked back at Sokka impassively.

“No, we didn’t. You shared an opinion, I said it’s ridiculous and hypocritical, there was no further discussion. That’s not talking about something.” Katara was glad Zuko had already thought to open the salsa because her palms were now definitely too sweaty to get a good grip.

“Well, now probably isn’t the time to actually talk about it,” Suki interjected, and received a grateful look from Zuko.

With Suki’s intervention, Aang was more than happy to derail the conversation to planning their spring break trip to Ember Island, which provided more than enough to bicker about without getting into whatever there was between Katara and Zuko. Instead, they focused on trying to insist that the Ember Island Players are a tradition, and that Zuko was just a fun-hating theater snob. He tried to convince them to settle for the Fire Days Festival instead, but ended up screwing himself because technically they could do both, and he was woefully outvoted. Aang promised to make it up to him with surfing lessons, which Katara noted didn’t seem appealing to him until Aang mentioned that _she_ was the one who always found them the best waves.

After the nachos were polished off, Aang and Toph begged off to return to their dorms, and Sokka and Suki drifted back to the living room couch, talking quietly amongst themselves. That left Katara and Zuko to clean up in the kitchen (mystery salsa excluded). He washed and she dried and put dishes away, the pair falling into the ritual which so often ended nights like this. Over the two years Sokka and Zuko had lived together, they had gotten to know each other really well from these moments of quiet, where they smoothly switched between talking in hushed tones or relaxing into the motions of their hands and the quiet swish of water. Tonight was quiet, both of them acutely aware of how close their bodies were and of the fact that they were both thinking about each other. Katara wondered if he could hear her heart the way she could feel the rise and fall of heat as he swayed closer to and away from her.

As the sudsy water swirled away down the drain and she was rubbing the water off of the last of the plates, she felt brave. She decided to give them one last chance to get it right before they gave up for the night. “Zuko?” she asked. He turned to her, finishing drying his hands and setting the other towel aside. “Put this away for me?” She held the plate out in the small space between them, and his eyes flicked from her face to the plate to the space where it belonged in the open cabinet she was still blocking, before returning to her face again. Once more, his fingers lingered on hers as he accepted the task, and once more he stepped close. She closed her eyes to the sound of the plate scraping gently over the stack and into place, gripping the dish towel tight. _Please say it_. When they came, the words were little more than a breath washing over her lips.

“As you wish.”

Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.


	9. Shatter

This prompt got posted as its own work [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480187) because it got way longer than these prompts are meant to be. Enjoy!


	10. Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly canon divergent universe where all of the kids went to Ember Island, not just the core six.

The afternoon Katara and Zuko returned from their quest to find her mother’s killer was tense at the Ember Island house. Katara was still shaken from the journey and a little annoyed with Aang for trying to keep her from getting that closure, and Zuko was still a bit in shock that his plan actually resulted in her forgiving him. Aang still wasn’t sure how to process the fact that Katara had wanted to take off on a violent revenge mission and still rejected the notion of getting closure through forgiveness. For the rest of the kids around the fire pit, this made for an unbearably awkward dinner, full of lots of side-eying each other and people staring off into space for long gloomy moments.

Of course it was Toph who got fed up first and decided to cut the tension by saying, “Hey Sparky!” Zuko’s gaze snapped from where it had wandered aimlessly to the ocean over to her.

“Yeah?”

“When we were still traveling around, Twinkletoes met some Fire Nation kids and they said dancing was, like, illegal.” He shot a confused look at Aang, and then Sokka when Aang didn’t meet his eyes.

“Um...yeah. It’s not quite illegal, but it’s been frowned upon for a while besides the more formal dances. Definitely banned in schools though.” Her eyebrows crept up in surprise.

“Wow, that’s seriously whack. Even my parents let me dance. It was all boring fancy lady garbage, but it was _almost_ fun.”

“Yeah,” The Duke piped up. “I went to school in a Fire Nation colony for a little while before I joined the Freedom Fighters, and they were _crazy_ about the no-dancing rule.” Haru nodded his ascent.

“No earthbending, no dancing, no fun. That’s the Fire Nation for you,” he said.

“Maybe they should’ve outlawed facial hair,” Sokka said, nudging Haru with his elbow. Teo laughed at him, and Zuko grimaced because yeah, the goatee was a questionable choice.

“Don’t be jealous, Sokka,” Katara admonished, and everyone laughed at that.

“We should have a dance party!” Aang suggested, pushing himself to his feet on a gust of wind.

“That’s the spirit, Twinkletoes! We’ve gotta show these guys how to live a little.”

“Especially since we all might die soon,” Sokka agreed. Suki elbowed him and Katara and Aang both shouted, “Sokka!”

“We don’t have any music though,” The Duke pointed out, face crumpling. The air seemed to leave everyone’s sails at that. It really had sounded like it would be a good time - it had been a while since they had let loose.

“My Uncle, uh, was always big on music night on the ship,” Zuko said, uncertainly. “There might be some instruments in his quarters?” Smiles broke out again, and Aang whooped, racing off towards the house. The others followed his lead, and Zuko tried not to feel weird sliding open the door to the room that Iroh always stayed in and letting his new friends pick through drawers and closets.

“I found a Tsungi horn!” Aang said, and then blew a honking note that made Zuko snatch it away and snap,

“That’s not how you play it!” The others turned to him with dangerously big grins, and he froze in terror.

“Do _you_ know how to play the Tsungi horn?” Katara asked, and Zuko started to sweat, thinking back to all of the miserable afternoons he spent learning the dorkiest instrument possible.

“I’ll know if you’re lying,” Toph reminded him, and he hung his head in defeat.

“Yes,” he sighed. “If you must know, I learned when I was younger, but it’s been a very long time since I played. And...I wasn’t very good.” Toph tutted at him.

“What would Gramps say about you slacking off on your practice?” The mention of his uncle sent a spike of pain through his chest. The Tsungi horn _was_ Iroh’s favorite instrument, and it had always disappointed him when Zuko adamantly refused to play on music night.

“Fine,” he said, holding the instrument closer. “But don’t blame me if it hurts your ears.”

“Oh this is gonna be the greatest thing I’ve ever heard,” Sokka said, rubbing his hands together.

“Hey!” Haru called their attention to the corner of the room, where he’d pulled a sheet away to reveal a pile of different sized drums in all different colors. “I think we’re definitely in business now.” He picked up a mallett and gently struck the center of the largest drum. A deep resonant sound reverberated through the room, and Katara and Sokka lit up.

“We can play Water Tribe songs!”

From Iroh’s desk, Teo held out a small tube to Aang and said, “This looks kind of like some of the ones we found at the Northern Air Temple. Do you think you could play it?” Aang lit up and happily accepted it, and promptly started playing a quick jaunty tune and hopping around.

“This is gonna be great!” he proclaimed, and his mood started to infect the rest of them as they started to realize that they were well on their way back to wacky hijinks.

Back around the fire pit, Sokka started setting Haru and Aang up with drums so Katara could show everyone a Water Tribe dance. He taught them each a simple rhythm to keep up and started freestyling on a collection of smaller drums. The effect of the overlapping sounds against the background of waves crashing on the beach was eerily reminiscent of storms at sea, and Zuko shivered. He could feel the music in his chest like he used to feel the waves and wind shaking his cabin, and his heart wanted to jump despite his feet planted on the hard patio stones.

Everyone had started bobbing and swaying with the drums, laughing as they knocked shoulders awkwardly, but as Katara stepped into the center of the patio and began to move, a hush fell over the group. It was small at first, a rocking from side to side that started in her feet and traveled up to her hips, her shoulders, her neck.

“This is the story of the first great storm,” Sokka said, his voice projecting across the patio. “It is the story of how the Southern Water Tribe almost never came to be, and the story of how our people survived every great storm since.” The cadence of his voice followed the drums, and it was clear that the telling of the story had been just as carefully and lovingly learned as the motion of Katara’s body. 

As the story unfolded, so did Katara, the movement of her arms so similar to her bending forms as she embodied the ocean and the moon and the boats that had carried her people. Where Zuko was so used to seeing strikes and parries, looking for unguarded sides, this time he could finally appreciate the beauty within that skill. He was surprised by how different the movements felt with the addition of the driving rhythm of the drum and the swaying of her hips. In the light of the slowly setting summer sun, with her brother’s voice narrating the strength of their people and their will to live, he was reminded of the feeling of being surrounded by dragon fire. The sunset lit Katara up from behind, her hair glowing like fire, and Zuko thought once more of Uncle Iroh saying _fire is life_. 

Looking at her dancing he understood all over again. The fire inside her was meant to be so many things, so much more than anger at the loss of her mother. It was also commitment to her people, and love for her friends. It was passion. It was life. In the dance, he saw the unburdening of her soul and felt humbled to have been a part of it.


	11. Secrets

Zuko hated keeping secrets. This was partly a function of him being probably the worst liar in the world, and partly a function of how his family had been torn apart by terrible secrets. Still, Katara had thought that surely her husband would have to develop a sense of nuance about it eventually - being a parent didn’t really work without some level of secrecy involved. However, it had been eleven years so far, and she was finding that he functioned admirably, if awkwardly, as he answered every question their children peppered him with. And there had been some doozies over the years.

* * *

Like when Izumi was five and asked why Uncle Aang never spent holidays with his “real family”, and Katara had said,

“All families are ‘real’. Uncle Aang is just as much your uncle as Uncle Sokka is - it doesn’t matter if we’re related by blood or not. Family is who you love and who loves you.” Of course that hadn’t been enough to get around such a persistent child. Zuko thought that really, his wife should’ve known better than to think any child of theirs would give up so easily.

“But where is Uncle Aang’s _other_ family?” she wanted to know. “Like his mom and dad?” Zuko had pulled Izumi onto his lap and held onto her as he explained,

“Do you remember when you asked about Mom’s mom? And we told you how she was a very brave woman who passed away a long time ago?” He glanced away from his daughter’s gaze just long enough to catch the fleeting sadness that always passed over his wife’s face when that old grief got woken up. Izumi nodded, but looked wary, as though she already knew where the conversation was headed. “Uncle Aang’s family passed away too, like your other grandmother. But they were good and brave just like her.” He didn’t think he was doing very well if all he could think of to comfort his daughter was to tell her that so many good people in her family were dead, especially when she would inevitably learn how many of Zuko’s terrible relatives lived long lives.

Then Katara, as always, found the words that escaped him, reaching to take Izumi’s small hand in hers. “That’s why we make offerings to our ancestors and keep telling their stories and ask their spirits for guidance. Even if they aren’t here, we still love them, and they’re still important.” Izumi’s brow furrowed in the same way Katara so often smoothed off of Zuko’s face, and for a terrifying moment, Zuko was afraid she would ask how Aang’s family had died, which he absolutely did _not_ have an age-appropriate answer for. Insead, she just asked,

“Is Uncle Aang sad?”

“Sometimes,” Zuko admitted, smoothing a hand over Izumi’s hair. “There are some sad things that never go away completely. Most of the time though, your uncle is a pretty happy guy. That’s why he spends holidays with us - because holidays are fun, and he wants to come to feasts and dance with us and teach you new games and show you tricks.” She looked mostly mollified by that, but there was still something bothering her. Katara squeezed her hand and suggested,

“Maybe if you want to make him feel better, you can ask him to tell you a story about his home while he’s visiting. He really likes to tell the one about learning to bake fruit pies.” At that, Izumi’s expression evened out and she said,

“Okay,” and that was that.

* * *

Or like when Kya had been born and seven year old Izumi had looked at the new baby in her mother’s arms and then up at her parents and asked, “Where did she come from?” Katara, utterly exhausted, and Zuko, beyond frazzled from the stress, looked at each other helplessly.

“Well honey,” Katara started tentatively, “We already talked about that. The baby was growing in my belly.”

“But how did she get _out_?” Izumi demanded. “And how did she get in there?” Momentarily wishing their daughter was just a tiny bit less curious, Zuko and Katara exchanged another look, where Zuko’s face clearly asked _What are we supposed to do now?_ and Katara’s answered _I just squeezed out your child, you can handle this_. So the Fire Lord looked up to the ceiling, silently begging for Agni to grant him wisdom (or failing that, for Ran and Shaw to devour him) and said,

“Well, you remember how we learned about the turtleducks laying their eggs and the momma turtleduck keeps it warm until it’s ready to hatch?” Izumi nodded, and Katara fussed with Kya’s blanket to keep from laughing at her husband’s red face. “It’s kind of like that with people babies too.”

Slowly and painfully, Zuko managed to extend the turtleduck metaphor enough to satisfy Izumi’s curiosity and she gave her mother and new sister kisses and ran off to play, shouting, “I’ve gotta go tell Roku and Lin they were eggs!”

“That was an impressive bit of parenting right there,” Katara admitted, smiling with amusement. “But Toph is never going to let you live this down.” He groaned and flopped onto the bed beside his wife and youngest child, but smiled into the pillow anyway at the compliment.

* * *

But the only time Zuko found himself thinking it would maybe be _better_ to lie was when Roku was seven (which Zuko then decided just had to be a particularly precocious age for children). They were at the dinner table when he asked, “Is the thing on Dad’s face a birthmark?” Once again, the parents at the table were stunned into silence. Of course they had always expected that the kids would ask about the scar one day, but they had thought it might come up in a conversation about the war or during a training session. But of course, their children never managed to be predictable. Before either of them could say anything, Izumi scoffed and said,

“No, it’s a _scar_.”

“From what?” Roku asked, looking between his parents.

“What’s with the sudden interest in birthmarks?” Katara asked, trying to divert the conversation and give Zuko time to decide what to do. And at first, he really didn’t know. He never shied away from the parts of the war that were the Fire Nation’s history - the atrocities committed _had_ to be taught if they were to prevent them ever happening again. Stories about Zuko’s childhood, particularly about how Ozai had treated him, had always been a different kind of thing to him. He himself hadn’t believed a parent could be so cruel to their child, even as it was happening, but the thought of Izumi and Roku and Kya knowing that such a thing was possible, of them perhaps harboring a tiny fear that one day one of them would be found unworthy...Surely there was nothing good to be learned from knowing the truth about his scar.

“My teacher has one on her hand. It looks kinda like Appa,” he said, shovelling a huge clump of noodles into his mouth. He looked so innocent, and Izumi was still watching him, with the excited, expectant look she wore when she begged her older relatives for stories of their adventures. Clearly she expected some swashbuckling tale of heroism, and Roku didn’t even know what a scar looked like for Agni’s sake, and he realized he couldn’t hide the truth from them. If their trust in him was built on ignorance, it wasn’t truly earned.

In the brief moment of silence, Zuko met Katara’s eyes, and she saw that he was going to do the only thing he knew how to: tell them the truth. Meeting his son’s eyes, he said,

“When I was thirteen, I spoke out against something one of my father’s generals proposed because I thought it was cruel. My father took offense to it, and tried to force me to face him in an Agni Kai, but I didn’t want to try to hurt my father. So he burned my face and told me it would teach me respect.” Izumi and Roku both reached for their own faces, wincing at the thought. Both of them had been running amok around the palace long enough to have at least burned a finger somehow, but neither could fully imagine how much it would hurt to have a burn that bad on their face.

“That’s horrible!” Roku said, and Katara, Zuko, and Izumi grimaced.

“That’s why we call Dad’s uncle ‘Grandfather’?” Izumi of course put together right away. Zuko nodded, and found that the mention of his uncle gave him just the right words to reassure his children.

“Yes. Like your mom always says: family is who loves you and who you love. Uncle is the one who loved me the way a father should - the way I love you three - unconditionally. Even when I was angry and ungrateful and made all the wrong decisions, he never wavered. Just like how your mother and I will always love the three of you.”

That night, Zuko waited for the hint of fear or doubt in his children’s eyes, but it never came. Instead, Kya fell asleep in Katara’s lap while Izumi smoked Zuko in a game of Pai Sho. Roku shamelessly rooted for his sister the entire time and laughed at his father’s dramatic pout when he inevitably lost. It didn’t stop him from demanding a piggy back ride to bed when family time was over, and as the family made their way to the children’s bedrooms together, Zuko thought that maybe he didn’t need to be afraid of his family’s secrets anymore.


	12. Moonbeam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece immediately follows the "Sunset" one.

After Katara’s dance, everyone else decided to start showing off dances from their own cultures. First, Katara and Sokka traded off and Katara drummed a simple rhythm for Sokka to show them a warrior dance. He gathered Toph, Haru, Aang, and Zuko to learn it from him, and Katara found Zuko less clumsy than she’d initially expected him to be. The steady pounding of the drum gave the illusion that their stomping feet were shaking the earth. For Zuko, moving in sync with his new allies, those tentative friends, he felt powerful in a way he never had before. For so long, his sense of power had come from the knowledge of his birthright or the skill of his bending, but the warrior dance felt powerful because he could feel the strength of the others flowing through him as they moved as one.

When it was Suki’s turn, she did a demonstration with her fans while Haru picked out a tune on a stringed instrument. There were two parts to the performance. The first was a clearly choreographed sequence of moves that looked like different kinds of bending forms that rolled into each other to become a dance.

“Most of what we do is incredibly functional, even when it is beautiful,” Suki explained as she spun across the stones. “But this is one of the few sequences the Kyoshi Warriors learn that is purely for ceremonial purposes.” She flicked her fans, sending a light breeze across their faces, then rolled her arms into a motion like Katara summoning a wave. The crash of a wave on the beach echoed the movement, which ended in a firm earthbending stance. “It’s meant to capture Avatar Kyoshi’s bending style.” Aang sat up straighter at that, his eyes studying the steps more intently. “While most of our duties focus on protecting her legacy - the warriors’ fighting style and island of Kyoshi itself - traditions like this are meant to keep us in touch with Avatar Kyoshi’s spirit.”

The second part of her demonstration was part sparring, part dancing, much like the way Katara remembered dancing with Aang at the secret cave party. For this, she of course recruited Sokka. “As the only other person here who has trained in our style, you’ll have to do.”

“I think you’ll remember I held my own pretty good with these bad boys,” Sokka said, joining her. The fans were purely decorative this time, pretty patterned things made of embroidered silk that they’d found in the Fire Lady’s room, but as they circled each other it was clear that neither of them was trying to make contact anyway. There was a give and take to it, their bodies flowing through the space, somehow intertwined and opposing at the same time. It reminded Katara of Tui and La swimming around each other in the Spirit Oasis. Both of them were great leaders in their own rights, but balanced and better together - strong and steady Suki beside loving and creative Sokka. She smiled for her brother and his happiness, and for all of the other unexpected joys that had come from this impossible quest.

Aang fed off of the bright energy in the air, and was eager to show everyone dancing “Air Nomad-style!” The sun had gone down enough that Zuko lit a fire in the pit, and fireflies started blinking around them, waking up for the night and drawn in by the sparks drifting up into the sky. For his dance, Aang waved everyone up with him and away from the instruments. “At the Air Temples, dancing is like airbending - it’s all about letting your spirit be free. Just feel the music!” He lifted the flute to his lips and started playing something quick and fluttering, like leaves on the wind, jumping and twirling and kicking.

Teo and The Duke were the first ones to join in, Teo popping wheelies in his chair and The Duke jumping and waving his arms around. Sokka grabbed Suki by the wrist and pulled her closer to the fire, swinging her around in his arms and making her laugh wildly. Katara did the same to Toph, dragging her into the action by force. 

“Whoa, Sugar Queen!” she shouted, trying to pull free, but as soon as she yanked her wrist back, she found herself caught up by Sokka and Suki into a circle of joined hands. Katara enjoyed twirling on her own for a moment, trying to feel her own body blown around by the music. Then, her eyes caught mid-turn on Zuko. He was on the outside of the group a little, but instead of sulking or watching awkwardly, he was moving through the Dancing Dragon. On impulse, she grabbed his wrists as he pushed into the final move, and laughed at his yelp of surprise as she leaned back and swung him in a wide circle.

“I thought it was a bending form, not a dance,” she teased, slowing their spin only to drag him into another in the opposite direction.

“It _is_ a bending form!” he insisted, scowling, but only performatively. She had noticed that his crankiness was a lot shallower than it used to be.

“Then start doing a dance,” she said, and abruptly let go of his wrists, sending him careening into the other dancers. Aang paused in his playing just long enough to hoot,

“Yeah, Sifu Hotman! Feel that music!”

As soon as she turned away, she found Haru there to take her hands and spin her in a similar, but gentler, fashion. Looking back where she’d come from, she could see Zuko trying to keep up the momentum from their wild dancing, visibly forcing himself not to get in his head and stiffen up. She throws her head back and laughs, and when she and Haru part, she sways closer to the fire, feeling it warm her all over.

They dance wildly and joyfully until Aang is out of breath and they are all sweating and tired. Laughing and leaning on each other, they collapse back into their seats, only for Toph to shake the patio with a stomp of her foot.

“You’re mine now,” she says, with oddly maniacal glee for someone announcing a dance lesson. “Thanks to my stuffy parents, the only dance I know how to teach you is for balls, but I guess _somebody_ has to bring some class to these proceedings.” Katara snorted, and Toph pointed an accusing finger at her. “I heard that Sugar Queen. We need a musician, and then everyone else buddy up.” The others glanced around at each other, but aside from Sokka and Suki joining hands, nobody moved. Zuko cleared his throat, and said,

“Um. I can play the Tsungi horn.” He winced as he made the offer, clearly not enthused about the prospect of displaying his questionable talents for them, but also clearly more unwilling to dance again. “Not you Sparky. You’re with me.”

“What?” He looked so shocked and upset, Katara had to bite down on a laugh.

“I can play too!” The Duke piped up eagerly. “I used to do the morning horn at camp.” Toph pointed at him.

“You’ve got the gig.” Turning back to Zuko, she put her hands on her hips and stuck her nose in the air. “I’m a lady of high class and good breeding. You think I’m gonna dance with any of these rubes? Get over here, Prince Pouty.” 

Toph clapped the beat she needed to show them the dance, and The Duke improvised a tune rather impressively. Haru asked Katara to dance right away, leaving Aang with Teo as Toph grabbed Zuko’s hand and started bullying him into the right position. The other pairs mirrored them, except Aang, who sat atop an air scooter to be eye-level with Teo. “Okay, if your hand is on your partner’s waist, you’re leading,” Toph said.

“I don’t know if-”

“Stuff it, Sparky. This is how I learned, so you’re gonna figure it out. You’re gonna go forward…” She explained the sequence of steps, and Zuko tried to memorize the order, nodding firmly as she delivered the instructions. The others looked at her somewhat helplessly, but if Toph picked up on any hesitation in the air, she ignored it and counted them off to start the dance for real.

Haru gently but kind of clumsily tried to sway through the steps with Katara, but they couldn’t quite stop their feet from tangling and tripping each other. They smiled at each other sheepishly, but the close proximity and the intimacy of the hold left them blushing and made their eyes skitter away. Sokka and Suki were barely paying attention to the instructions Toph tried to give, just swaying in circles and enjoying the closeness, and Teo and Aang were laughing as they rolled around. In contrast, Toph kept barking at Zuko for learning dance steps like they’re bending forms.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he grumbled. 

“You have to feel it in your feet,” she said, shoving at his shoulder to get him to do the back step.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Easy for you to say.” 

“It is easy! Unless you’re an uptight idiot about it. It’s just dancing!”

“Dancing is hard!”

“Then try again!” She continued to drill him on the steps just as harshly as she coached Aang through his earthbending forms, but Zuko just got more and more frustrated. Eventually she pushed him away in disgust. “Screw this, I can’t work under these conditions. Twinkle toes!” 

Aang went to dance with Toph, and Teo called Haru to join him with The Duke and play around with the instruments. Katara and Zuko’s eyes met across the little dance floor as they stood listless and partner-less. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Well?” 

He blinked. “Well what?”

“Are you going to ask me to dance?” she asked, taking a step towards him. He did the same.

“You could ask me,” he pointed out, and she smiled and shook her head. 

“You’re the prince here.” She took another step. “Where are your courtly manners?” The mocking in her voice made him smile back, and the next step carried him close enough to bow deeply, his hand extended to her. 

His tone held none of her light teasing as he said, “I would be honored if you would dance with me, Master Katara.” Her face flushed, and she was suddenly nervous, unsure of what to do with a voice charming enough to win over politicians. She’d kind of assumed that the endearing awkwardness they’d started to uncover beneath his abrasiveness was all there was to him. It was kind of jarring to see that royal confidence come through in a way that wasn’t angry arrogance. When she took his hand, she felt the warmth and work-roughened skin of his palm, but he pulled her towards him smoothly. As he stood tall again, it occurred to her for the first time that if their plan succeeded on the day of the comet, he would be the Fire Lord by summer’s end. 

Then he started in with the steps. He executed them technically perfectly, but jerked her around the dancefloor haltingly. Toph had been right: it was like he was moving through forms instead of dancing. After a couple repetitions of the pattern, she dug in her heels and pulled them to a halt.

“Stop worrying so much about the steps,” she advised. “You’re getting so caught up in perfecting the steps that you aren’t paying attention to the music. _Or_ your lovely partner,” she said, feigning offense and tossing her hair. He laughed.

“My apologies. What does my _lovely_ _partner_ suggest?”

“Don’t think about what Toph told you. Feel what I’m doing.” She felt his fingers tighten on her hip and her hand as the music led them into the next sequence. Her hips shifted with the transfer of her weight from one foot to the other, and her shoulders were loose, her spine swaying as they moved more simply than what Toph had been trying to explain. Listening to her movements seemed to work better for him. After so many times facing off together, he knew how to read where she was going in or out of a fight, and soon enough he relaxed into it.

As their bodies pushed and pulled each other, they moved closer in each other’s arms. The warmth of his chest started to make her almost sleepy except for how his racing heart seemed to be contagious. She didn’t look away from his face though, no matter how flustered she felt by his intent gaze, unwilling to let him have even that small victory. 

Instead, she studied the fall of moonbeams on his features and thought that Zuko looked very much like all of his selves in that light. Katara traced the way the silvery light made the mark of the banished prince bright, and the glow off his pale skin softened his edges too, making him into the wiser, gentler Avatar’s teacher. The faint shadows on his cheeks revealed his lean months as a refugee, and the spark of the light in his eyes suggested the restrained power of his bending. Idly, she wondered if the moonlight on the soft upturn of his lips would taste layered and sweet. When she looked back up, the warmth of his gaze said that he would happily let her find out.


	13. Hidden

As soon as the closet door slammed shut behind them, Katara shoved Zuko away from her.

“What are you _doing_?” she hissed. A small flame sparked to life and he found a small sconce on the wall.

“Fire Sages,” he whispered back. Around them, sacks of rice and flour and other dried goods were piled on shelves. A broom leaned in the corner beside Zuko, and bunches of drying herbs hung above them, making the cool dry air fragrant.

“Why are we hiding from the Fire Sages?” she asked. “Are they bothering you about some weird ritual again?” He shook his head.

“No, I just - we’re -” She crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“We’re what?”

“Well, the kitchens have been closed for hours, and -”

“And grabbing a midnight snack is suddenly high treason?”

“No, but -”

“Because you realize you’re the _Fire Lord_ , right? You can technically do whatever you want here, so I really don’t see how it matters if anyone finds us down here raiding the cookie jars.” He fell silent, his eyes sliding off of her and into the shadows. For a long moment, the only sound was Katara’s annoyed breathing, and her mind started to turn over the question of what on earth Zuko was so nervous about. When a theory wiggled its way out of the darkest corners of her mind, she felt her stomach curdle. “Unless the problem isn’t that you’re down here. It’s that you’re with me.” Zuko’s eyes went wide.

“No, that’s not -”

“Shove it. I’ve heard the rumors, okay? I’m not an idiot, and the court ladies certainly don’t care to spare my feelings about it. But _I_ haven’t been letting them bother me because I know what I mean to you. Or at least I thought I did, but if you’re this ashamed, then maybe -” Zuko stepped forward and grabbed onto her elbows where her arms were still hugging herself tightly.

“I am _not_ ashamed of you, okay?” he said, and then hung his head. “I guess I just still don’t _feel_ like the Fire Lord. It still feels like there ought to be someone to tell me I’m messing everything up and take it all away.” Her face went soft and sad, and she let her arms unfold from around herself to pull him closer, cupping his scarred face in her hands. A thumb brushed the edge of reddened skin under his eye, and he leaned into it, his hands settling on her waist. “I think I’m still ashamed of _me_.”

“Well stop that,” she said. Isn’t it treason to talk about the Fire Lord like that?” she tried to tease, though the humor in her voice was thin. The attempt at a joke went over his head anyway and a tiny line appeared on his forehead as he said,

“No, I struck that law weeks ago. People can say whatever they want about me now.” A small, bitter laugh escaped him. “And they do, apparently.” One of her hands slipped up into his hair and started carding through it, relaxing him. The arms around her tightened, and he tucked his face into the crook of her neck, letting her hold him up despite the fact that he was taller.

“You know there’s a difference between letting people stand up for themselves and letting the court make you their punching bag, right?” Warm damp breath gusted over her neck when he sighed, and her fingers twitched at the feeling.

“I promise I’ll try to stand up to them better. You shouldn’t have to put up with this just because I’m a coward.”

“This doesn’t make you a coward. But thank you. If you’ll let me, I can help. I’m told I can be pretty scary when I try to be.” He laughed a little, and managed to pull himself away enough to smile at her.

“I don’t think it’s only when you’re trying,” he said, “but I would appreciate that. Something tells me they’ll probably end up much more scared of you, and I think I’m very okay with that.”

Just then, the handle rattled and then the pantry door swung open to reveal a couple of Fire Sages, their hats off for the night, eyes wide at the sight of the Fire Lord in the embrace of the Avatar’s waterbending master. After a beat of stunned silence, they bowed hastily.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” one of them stammered. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Zuko said, hurriedly, stepping back from Katara enough to be decent. “We were just down here for a snack.” Without looking, he grabbed a container off the nearest shelf with one hand, and Katara’s hand with the other. The sages parted quickly to let them pass through, Zuko flushed but holding his head high and Katara laughing and waving.

“Goodnight!” she called behind them, and both men quickly stumbled after their own goodnights and parting bows as the pair disappeared back into the dark palace hallways.


	14. Matchmaker Iroh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is in an AU that I will probably continue writing outside Zutara Month as well. Basically instead of following Zuko on his banishment, Iroh challenged Ozai for the throne and became Zuko and Azula's guardian. This not an arranged marriage Zutara fic.

A few years after the war ended, Fire Lord Iroh announced that the Fire Nation would be hosting a Harmony Festival in Caldera City, including a Harmony Ball, much to the consternation of his niece and nephew. Zuko told his uncle that he “doesn’t want to have to dance and stuff”, so can’t he just help greet guests instead?

“Young people are exactly who should be enjoying the ball,” Iroh said, including his niece who had been conspicuously quiet. “And such a handsome young prince surely can’t get out of dancing with all of the eligible young ladies...unless he wanted to offend their guests?” Zuko blanched, and Azula laughed at him, relishing one of the rare instances where it was fun to be two years younger.

“Um no that’s - I mean I really don’t know if that would _help_ anything. You’d probably be better at...not offending guests.”

“It is not in my power to change, nephew. As hosts, we have to make our guests feel welcome. Between a handsome prince and a crusty old Fire Lord, who do you think is going to end up surrounded by beautiful young ladies and who is going to be talking to dusty old bureaucrats all night?” Zuko’s eyes widened.

“Uncle, you’re not -” Iroh held up a hand to silence him, a gesture rarely employed in their home and all the more implacable for it. Zuko grumbled that he knew how both of them would prefer those responsibilities to shake out, but Uncle just laughed. Azula’s grin was shark-like.

The night of the ball came, and Azula made a beeline for Mai and Ty Lee as soon as they got inside. Since they were the only girls he actually knew, Zuko followed.

“Don’t you have eligible ladies to romance Zuzu?” Azula teased, grinning as her brother scowled. 

“No,” he grit out, crossing his arms.

“Uncle’s orders…” she sang, and Zuko’s shoulders slumped as he acknowledged that his little sister was right, as usual. 

He looked desperately to Mai because she’d kind of had a crush on him and maybe she would save him, but she just frowned ever so slightly more and told him,

“I hate dancing. Balls are boring.” Ty Lee came to his unexpected rescue though, exclaiming that she _loves_ dancing and dragged him right out onto the dancefloor. 

He couldn’t keep up with her even a little bit, but it got him through the first song without having to make awkward small talk or figure out what to do with _flirting_ Agni forbid, so he was happy enough. Then as soon as the song ended, she was mobbed by young men wanting a dance with her now that they’d seen her graceful movements and low cut dress. Azula watched her selecting her partner from the crowd with envy, and Zuko was reluctantly roped into dancing with the daughter of a delegate from Omashu.

As the night wore on, Iroh realized that both his niece and nephew were attempting to get away with working the room of diplomats instead of hanging out with the children of representatives that he had explicitly invited with the intention of them making friends. So when he spotted his old friend Pakku approaching Chief Hakoda with his dance partner, he decided to take matters into his own hands with some good old-fashioned meddling.

“Ah, Master Pakku, I thought I recognized you,” he said, smiling wide and bowing to the group. “It has been far too long since our last game of Pai Sho.” Pakku returned the bow.

“Fire Lord Iroh, a pleasure as always.” Iroh offered his arm to clasp with Hakoda.

“Chief Hakoda.” Then he turned to the woman with them. “And you can only be the lovely Kanna I have heard so much about,” he said and bowed low to kiss her hand. They made some idle chatter for a moment before Iroh got to his true purpose and asked, “Chief Hakoda, I take your mother’s presence to mean your children have accompanied you on this trip as well?”

“Yes, we decided they’re old enough this year.” 

Kanna laughed at her son. “You mean they were _old enough_ to give Pakku the slip and chase us down in a canoe. _You_ didn’t decide blubber.” Iroh threw his head back and laughed with her, despite the Chief’s face taking on a petulant expression at his mother embarrassing him.

“I blame you for that - I never should’ve left them with you when I was away. Polar bear dogs would’ve raised better behaved children.”

“I raised _you_ ,” she reminded him. At this, he shot her a wicked smile and said,

“So I would know.” Kanna swatted her son on the arm but laughed louder anyway and pulled him closer with an arm around his waist.

“I think _all_ of you inherited your mother’s wild streak,” Pakku said with fond exasperation. “Though I’d say Katara got most of it. She’s the one who stole the canoe after all.” Iroh laughed again at the thought of his dour friend being outwitted by a teenage girl who wanted to go to a glamorous party.

“She sounds like a girl after my own heart,” the Fire Lord said. “Actually, that reminds me quite a bit of my niece Azula. Very determined girl, that one.” He felt immensely satisfied with himself when he finally suggested, “Perhaps we should introduce them. If I remember correctly, your son is around Zuko’s age too.” 

Hakoda nodded hesitantly, clearly weighing the insult of refusing the introduction against his children’s potential for offense of their own and finding acceptance only slightly favorable. Turning with complete certainty towards the buffet table, his booming voice called across the ballroom, “Sokka, Katara!” Plenty of heads turned at the noise, but only five of them belonged to children, two of which looked to each other and then back to Hakoda with identical confused expressions. He waved them over, and the girl turned to say something to their friends before peeling away, her brother grabbing one last fruit tart from the table before following in her wake.

Iroh caught Zuko’s attention easily since he’d felt his nephew picking him out of the crowd all night. With a small gesture and a nod towards Azula, Iroh summoned him, and he extricated himself from the arms of his latest dance partner. 

“Whatever you heard, it wasn’t us,” Sokka said as he and his sister approached the cluster of their relatives. Katara’s eyes widened when she realized who her family was talking to and she shushed her brother, elbowing him and making him inhale part of the pastry in his mouth. She bowed and greeted the Fire Lord hastily as her brother coughed and Zuko and Azula appeared silently at their uncle’s side. Zuko glanced nervously at the possibly dying Water Tribe boy.

“Uncle?” he asked, uncertain. Azula immediately recognized Hakoda and was quick to bow appropriately and say,

“Chief Hakoda, it is an honor.” Like he’d gotten a static shock, Zuko jolted and then hastily copied his sister’s manners.

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir.” Then he turned back to Iroh, who smiled broadly and gestured to the other children.

“Zuko, Azula, these are Chief Hakoda’s children, Sokka and Katara. It is their first time visiting the palace, and I thought perhaps you could show them some hospitality.”

“Ah yes, that classic Fire Nation hospitality,” Sokka whispered not quite quietly enough into his sister’s ear. He wilted a little under the collective glares of his family, and let out a small “ha ha?” Azula studied him thoughtfully, which made him shrink back more, but Zuko squirmed uncomfortably, glancing guiltily at their guests. Iroh himself smiled sadly at the joke, but before he could find something to say to diffuse the tension Azula’s bluntness nearly made it much worse.

“You’re the boy who performed in the Kyoshi Warrior demonstration earlier,” she said with certainty. “Rather unusual for a Water Tribe warrior.” He drew himself up defensively and said,

“I don’t have to be just one thing, alright?”

“Yeah, you’re the meat _and_ sarcasm guy,” Katara said, amused.

“You’re dang right! Plus Kyoshi Warriors are cool.” He sounded incredibly proud when he said, “My girlfriend’s their leader.” Azula’s expression turned to one of almost grudging respect.

“She was rather impressive.”

“You wanna meet her? She’s over there with our friends.” Sokka pointed back to the buffet where a girl was laughing at the young Avatar attempting to arm wrestle the Bei Fong girl for an egg custard tart.

“Actually, I would,” she said, and eagerly followed the boy back into the party, leaving Zuko staring jealously after her. Iroh could practically feel the anxiety radiating off his nephew as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to say to the girl he’d been left with. 

As the awkward silence stretched, Iroh couldn’t help but feel as though he’d tragically miscalculated. He’d been hoping that Zuko would find a friend in Hakoda’s fun-loving son, and maybe Azula would find her equal with the adventurous Katara. Instead, he’d managed to confront his nephew with one of his greatest mortal fears: a pretty teenage girl. Who looked as though she was also desperately trying to figure out how to get herself out of this situation, trapped with the Fire Lord and her relatives while her friends enjoyed themselves. Iroh was just opening his mouth to put them out of their misery and send the kids back to the party when Zuko apparently summoned all of his considerable will and in a blind panic spit out the only clue he’d been given for what to do with himself.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked Katara, who went wide-eyed, glancing at her father. Hakoda himself was looking at the incredibly awkward prince flabbergasted. She studied his face for a beat, and then a soft blush spread over her face.

“Sure.” Zuko stood straight, his expression slipping into shock for a second before he forced it down into slightly nervous.

“Great. Uh…” he offered her his hand, and she took it gently, letting him lead her dazedly onto the dance floor.

Iroh almost couldn’t look. Agni, he loved his nephew, but he was realistic about the boy’s failings. Girls mystified him on a good day, and Katara sounded like something else entirely - headstrong and daring and deadly. A horrific crash and burn seemed nigh inevitable.

So it was to all of the adults’ shock that despite Zuko blushing like he was going to pass out, the pair of them managed to sway to the music without incident. Katara smiled at him, and said something that made a sheepish little smile work its way onto his face. Even more impressive was that he managed to say something in reply that made her laugh. When Iroh looked away from Katara giggling into Zuko’s shoulder, he saw Azula attempting to eat a steamed bun in one bite, filling dripping down her chin, the other children clearly egging her on. It may have been the proudest moment of Iroh’s life.


	15. Trust

The first time Zuko offered to help with the cooking, Katara rejected the offer outright.

“I’m not going to poison you,” he said, holding his arms out. “You can search me.” She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

“Of course not, you aren’t clever enough for that. I just don’t want to eat anything made by someone who grew up as a spoiled prince. Believe it or not, cooking isn’t easy.”

“I know,” he insisted. “Uncle and I had to cook for ourselves while we were in exile. And the tea shop didn’t only serve tea - I know how to do things!” He couldn’t quite control the exasperation in his tone, and Katara frowned at the outburst.

“Well, I’m sorry to have doubted your majesty’s skills,” she mocked, more than a little pleased with herself when he made an irritated face at the barb. “The answer’s still no. I’m not sharing my kitchen with you.” Katara turned on her heel and strode off to “her kitchen” with the basket of vegetables on her hip.

* * *

The second time he asked was just after returning from The Boiling Rock. Surely his involvement in retrieving her father and the Kyoshi warrior would show her that he could be trusted. Instead, she had bared her teeth and suggested pointedly that he should sit and rest. Later, when everyone was full of soup and lounging around the courtyard, Zuko saw an opportunity. He stood up with his empty bowl, walked straight over to Katara, who was stretched out lazily, chatting with Sokka and Suki, and snatched up all of their dishes.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she called suspiciously after him. He didn’t look back or break stride.

“Phase one of my evil plot: doing your dishes.” She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. Katara got to her feet and hurriedly gathered up the bowls Hakoda and the kids had left beside them, taking off hot on Zuko’s heels. Her father, who had previously believed that he was the cause of her tempestuous moods, shot a questioning look at Sokka, who shrugged. Suki rolled her eyes at both of them, and Toph snorted, not pausing from where she and Haru were teaching Aang an earthbending game with pebbles on a grid scratched in the dirt.

“Not so fast!” Katara caught up with Zuko just inside the shadowy halls of the temple.

“Haste makes waste,” he quipped, deliberately misunderstanding her. “I’ll be very thorough.” Her blood flared hot with anger, and she had a brief fantasy of drowning him in the wash basin.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Okay.” He kept following the path worn in the dust through the winding halls. The non-response infuriated her further. Had she been an earthbender, the stoneware dishes would’ve been reduced to sand in her grip. They reached the kitchen, and Zuko put the dishes in the sink. Katara deposited her armload as well, and scowled as Zuko started to work the well pump on the wall to fill the basin.

“You’re doing it wrong,” she informed him, and felt a bit better for it. “There’s a boiler downstairs that you have to stoke. I know it’s strange for you, but there’s actual hard work involved in this.” He looked at her blankly, the sink beside him full of dirty dishes and cold water. A sense of triumph started to buoy her mood. Surely he wouldn’t bother with all that - this was a shallow gesture, and he’d back down. Then she could go back to handling everything herself like she was comfortable with. It was the only way to make sure things got done right anyway.

Looking her dead in the eye, he plunged a hand into the water, and seconds later, the sink was steaming. The satisfied smirk on her lips fell off gracelessly. Zuko picked it up and put it on his own face as he reached for the brush and said, “I think I’ll be okay.” Katara huffed and crossed her arms.

“Fine. Thank you for saving me the trip. You can get out now.” Zuko’s face fell. He really thought he’d get her to cave this time, that maybe he could start to break the ice between them. _Should’ve known better to think I could break_ that _ice - she’s from the South Pole_ , he thought bitterly.

“Why can’t you let me do anything?” he asked, exasperated. “I mean, what do you gain from doing all of this by yourself? The others clearly don’t care that you’re training just as hard as the rest of us and doing all the housework. Just let me help!”

“If I let other people help, I just end up having to fix it later anyway. It’s more efficient for me to just do it right the first time.”

“Again, I worked in a tea shop. I’ve been roughing it since the North Pole and my banishment before that wasn’t exactly cushy. I’m not some helpless aristocrat,” he argued.

“ _Nobody_ here is helpless. That doesn’t mean they know jack shit about what it takes to actually keep a camp running.” Zuko blinked and reared back. He’d been smacked around by water whips and frozen to icebergs and threatened, but somehow Katara swearing threw him. She wasn’t done though. “Dad’s the chief of the tribe - he’s kept my people alive for years and fought off the Fire Navy - but do you think he’s ever wondered how there was always dinner waiting even when the hunts were bad? Or how Sokka and I always had clothes that fit? How his uniforms always got mended? No! And Sokka and Aang - and _Toph_ for that matter - aren’t any better! _I_ know what to do. I had to learn how to do it all.” She stepped closer, and the accusing finger she pressed into his chest made him freeze in cold terror. “Because the Fire Nation destroyed my home and took my mother, so now it’s _my_ responsibility. _I_ know how to take care of everyone even when we have nothing, and _you_ have no right to act like you understand.”

Zuko’s chest ached, and not just because she had given him another sharp jab with her finger. His face softened with sadness, and he thought that maybe he was only now starting to understand the depth of Katara’s pain. This girl had not been a child in so long, had been forced to grow up even more and faster than he had. Sure, he had lost his home and been given a grown man’s quest, but he’d had Uncle guiding him every step of the way and hadn’t needed to look out for anyone but himself. Katara had already spent years taking care of her family, and escaped that duty only to join a dangerous quest for the fate of the world that had quickly morphed into her supervising a whole brood of children.

“You’re right,” he admitted, meeting her burning eyes calmly. She looked wary of his lack of argument. “I could never truly understand what that’s like.”

“Good, so you can just -”

“But I want to help anyway.” Katara was speechless for a second, so Zuko took the chance to push forward and speak his mind. “If you don’t trust me not to burn food or put holes in the laundry that’s fine, but let me do _this_. I can manage not to screw up this much, and if you really thought about it you’d agree.” She frowned, but as she did consider it, her expression smoothed out. At length, she nodded and left the room without another word.

* * *

The third time, he didn't expect anything. The night they returned from hunting down Yon Rah, they all settled into the Ember Island house. Toph’s stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear, and Katara sat up with a tired sigh. “I guess I should probably get started on dinner.” Zuko sat up too, and said,

“The stove heats up faster with firebending. I could, uh, help. If that’s okay?” He expected her to wave him off and inform him that the spark rocks were good enough, or maybe grab Aang instead. Much to his surprise, she shot him a cautious smile.

“Thanks, Zuko.”

Dazed and relieved, he followed her to the kitchen. Sure, she had forgiven him, but he hadn’t expected that the slate would really be wiped clean. He wasn’t expecting it to mean he had finally earned her trust. Katara started pulling out food from the bags they’d loaded off of Appa, and Zuko fiddled around with the stove, making sure that there was coal in the belly of it, and then blasting a small stream of fire into it. When he was sure that it was burning hot and consistently, he shut the door and stood up, shifting awkwardly on his feet as he watched her pull open drawers and cabinets at random as she tried to find the right implements.

He opened his mouth to say something to her, but thought better of it at the last second. She had given him so much more than he ever expected in this day. The last thing he wanted was to push his luck too far, so he turned to leave the kitchen. As he went, she called after him,

“Zuko?” He turned around again. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, weighing her words before she spoke them. “Can you stick around and help? I don’t know where anything is in this place.” Immediately, he nodded.

“Whatever you need.”


	16. Clueless

When Fire Lord Izumi takes the throne, former Fire Lord Zuko announces his intention to actually take a vacation, leaving his daughter shocked speechless. However, the surprise bleeds out of her expression as soon as he divulges that his intended destination is the South Pole.

“I should’ve guessed,” Izumi says, smiling knowingly at her father.

Misunderstanding her, Zuko irritably protests that he “won’t so much as say hello to Tonraq. I have been sick of politics for longer than you’ve been alive - you certainly won’t catch me doing any behind your back.”

The new Fire Lord heaves a sigh that reminds Zuko of her sullen adolescence. For an instant, all he can see is his little girl about to be left alone under the weight he was forced to bear so long and he wants to call off his trip. Until she smirks and opens her mouth, anyway. “Give Master Katara a kiss for me, will you?” He almost sets his robes on fire in distress, and his face flushes.

“Izumi!”

“Oh come on, Dad. I’ve known since I was like sixteen.” She puts a hand on his arm. “It’s okay to let yourself be happy.”

“There was nothing going on between Katara and I,” he insists.

“Of course I know that, Dad. You two never would’ve done that to Aang.” Zuko relaxes and Izumi goes in for the kill. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t love her. Doesn’t mean you don’t still.” The blush recedes from his face, and he looks at her with the proud, pleased expression he has worn a thousand times.

“When did you go get so wise?” She smiles at him, and it is an _Uncle_ smile. Zuko hugs his daughter tight, and then he and his faithful companion, Druk, take to the skies.

When they land in front of Katara’s hut, he smiles at the sight of smoke curling up into the sky from her hearthfire. He’d been taking a chance that she would be home at all by not sending word, and he is pleased to find that she is. It has been so many years of silence, but now that he is on her doorstep, he thinks that the agony of having to wait for her to return from the markets would kill him. Knocking on her door, he holds his breath for the long moment that elapses before it swings open. Katara shrieks when she sees him, a high girlish sound that startles him. Then his arms are unexpectedly full of waterbender, squeezing his waist with more force than someone as small and old as her should be able to muster. He melts into her though, holding her tight, his eyes falling closed so that he can focus on the feel of her hair against his cheek and the smell of herbs that clings to her clothes.

“Mom!?” an alarmed voice calls from deeper in the hut, and Kya emerges from the back room at a run, throwing the hide flap aside only to draw up short when she sees them embracing. “Lord Zuko,” she says, eyeing him strangely as he flinches back from Katara and starts fidgeting with his robes. Katara pulls him the rest of the way into the house, turning over her shoulder to scold her daughter.

“Kya, I know it’s been a few years but for La’s sake, the man changed your diapers, don’t be so formal.”

“Mom!” Kya protests, looking mortified, and Zuko laughs, relaxing. Rolling her eyes at her mother, Kya allows Zuko to hug her hello, and she says “It’s really good to see you. How’s retirement treating you?”

“The first few days have been a bit dull,” he admits. His eyes wander back to Katara when he says, “We’ll see about the rest of them.” When he catches himself and looks back, Kya’s eyes gleam just like Izumi’s had. _Busted_. But instead of selling him out or distracting her mother, Kya gives him the same mischievous smile that Sokka and Katara have flashed him countless times before, then turns to Katara fussing with the tea kettle and says,

“Since you haven’t keeled over on me, I’m going to pop out to the markets and pick up something to cook for a welcome dinner.” Katara points a scolding finger at Zuko.

“You’ll eat what I cook and like it.” He turns to her, aghast.

“I didn’t complain! I _never_ complain!”

“I saw you with your pepper flakes at my wedding feast,” she accused.

“That hardly counts as com - How did you even _notice_ that? It was your wedding and you had time to note my seasoning choices?”

“I notice everything! Kya will tell you,” she says and gestures for her daughter to defend her mother’s hawk-like senses only to find that Kya is gone. Katara and Zuko look around as though she was hiding behind something, but are forced to admit that they were too absorbed in their bickering to notice the only other person in the room leaving. Zuko opens his mouth, and Katara jabs her finger at him again. “That doesn’t change that I saw what I saw.”

They stare at each other in silence for a long moment before Katara’s face cracks into that familiar grin. He feels his own mouth curl upwards in answer. Then her shoulders start to shake, laughter bubbling up from deep in her belly. Zuko had forgotten how much it affected him to hear her laugh like that - to be the one _making_ her laugh like that. Few people have ever considered him a funny person. Most find him too serious or too awkward, but Katara has always maintained that people just never expected the Fire Lord to have a sense of humor, so they can’t properly appreciate his comedic timing. He dissolves into giggles with her until they are both hunched, gasping for breath.

When they straighten back up, Katara wipes a tear from her eye and tells him, “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time - hope I didn’t rupture anything.” She returns to arranging the tea tray, and with a flick of her wrist calls a stream of water to fill the pot. Instead of fiddling with the stove, she holds it out for Zuko, and he takes it from her readily, summoning a flame in the palm of his free hand. They settle next to each other on the small sofa, and while he brews their tea, she asks him, “What brings you here so suddenly? Usually there’s a whole big to-do when you’re coming.”

“Oh, nobody cares what the former Fire Lord does,” he dismisses, but she makes a face at him.

“Meaning nobody knows what the former Fire Lord is doing,” she surmises.

“There’s no business to this trip,” he tells her. “I’m on vacation, I promise. Izumi won’t let me do anything whether I want to or not, and I _don’t_.”

“A firebender vacationing in the South Pole,” she scoffs. “Are you sure you’re not in hiding? I mean, what’s here? Penguin sledding?” Zuko is so afraid of ruining the easy give and take of their well-worn friendship, but he is an old man. The two of them have spent far too long skirting around what they mean to each other, and at last he has come to yet another crossroads in his destiny, and as always Katara is with him. He takes a breath and tells the truth.

“You’re here.” She sobers instantly.

“Is this a medical visit then? Is it your heart?” she demands, reaching for him. “I’ve told you a thousand times, you _have_ to -”

“No,” he cuts her off firmly, pressing his hand over hers to keep it against his chest. “It’s the same benign arrhythmia it’s always been.”

“It hasn’t _always_ been,” she says darkly.

“I’m fine.” He squeezes her hand. “I’m here because I miss you, and the first thing I wanted to do when my daughter took that blasted crown off my hands was stop missing you.” The anger leaves her face, but the fear doesn’t.

“How long are you here for?” she asks, withdrawing her hand and tangling her fingers together in her lap.

“That depends.” Her eyes jump away from his at that, fixing on a spot just beside his scarred ear. Despite the rudeness of it, she does not ask him what his travel plans depend on. Fine. If that’s how she wants to be about it, then fine. Zuko’s done waiting though. “Katara, please don’t make pretend anymore.”

“You’re not pretending,” she says sharply, meeting his eyes again. Everything in her is blazing, and that is exactly how he knows he has her. “I _know_. Zuko, I’ve always known.”

“But you won’t let me _say_ it. Please. I have to.”

“We can’t -”

“We couldn’t,” he corrects her. “For so long, for so many reasons. But all of those are in the past now. Our spouses are long passed; the kids are all so grown they’re going gray. The last thing preventing us was me being on the throne that is now in Izumi’s very capable hands.” He looks at her beseechingly. “Tell me I’ve been wrong. Tell me you don’t feel the same about me, and I’ll leave. But neither of us have ever been very good liars.”

“Tell _me_ you didn’t abdicate for this.”

“I didn’t, and you don’t believe I would. You know I would’ve put off my own happiness to the grave if my country needed it, but Izumi was ready, and it’s best if she takes over while I’m still around, not least because it means we don’t have to worry about ending up with an addled Fire Lord.” Katara snorts.

“Addled. You? You’re too stubborn for that. You’d just go and get wiser until the moment you turn to dust behind a desk.” He takes her weathered hand in his own. Her fingers are still long and brown as he remembers them in their youth, though they do not uncurl so completely without effort, and the knuckles are more prominent, her skin softer and delicate with wrinkles. His own hands are similarly aged, but they fit together just as they have so many times before.

“Perhaps I’ve decided I’d rather not crumble before a pile of paperwork.” He lifts their joined hands and kisses her knuckles. “Katara, I have loved you for a lifetime,” he says, and she sucks in a breath at finally hearing the admission. She wants to tell him to stop, but her throat feels swollen shut. Tears prick her eyes. “I will love you as long as I live, and if I must continue to do so from afar, it will not be diminished.” Another kiss on her hand, and tears slip out of the corners of Katara’s eyes. She looks at Zuko finally, his earnest face and bowed head, the way there is no crown in his hair for the first time since they were kids. Her old heart is racing, and she thinks to herself that it can’t give out on her just yet, not in the face of so much possibility. “But I still have a few good years left in me, and if you’ll have me, I want to spend them with you.”

It has been sixty years of forcing down the longing in her chest when they see each other, burying all that unresolved emotion beneath the love she had for her husband and then for her children. She has lived a long and full life, and there are no regrets, but many questions. One of them has always been a nagging curiosity about what might have happened if she had kissed Zuko when she held him after the Agni Kai. What would their lives have been if they had come together in the day they were alone in the palace, before their pasts returned, when it was just the two of them at the dawn of a new age?

Katara nods, but cannot force words out of her mouth for a moment. Then she takes a deep breath and says, “I love you too.” The breath that leaves his mouth is unsteady, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly.

When she kisses him, he feels like he is seventeen and holding the power of a lightning bolt in his stomach. She feels like she is fifteen and holding the warmth of him in her arms for the first time. He feels all seventy seven years of his destiny pushing and pulling him towards her. She feels all seventy five years of her choices leading her to this moment. The instant their lips part, he reels her back in to kiss her round cheek, the cold tip of her nose, those hands that have held him together time after time, and once again her smiling mouth.

When he looks up into her eyes, he is the one who is crying. She reaches for that dear face, brushing her fingers over his scarred cheek as she once had when they were just children still, and he leans into it just the same as he had then. Gentle fingers wipe at the tears. “Enough of that,” she admonishes gently.

“We’re a couple of sentimental old fools,” he laments, smile lines deepening at one corner of his mouth. She flashes her familiar comforting smile, and scoots closer to him.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”


	17. Photograph

The first photograph to be taken in the Fire Nation is going to be a portrait of the royal family. It is not the first in the world - there were many images captured in the lab of the university student that invented the contraption, and King Bumi and Avatar Aang had already been photographed as Li attempted to capture the likenesses of the world’s leaders, but this different. The young scholar that made the discovery was invited to the royal palace as a part of a series of academic demonstrations. Once the image is captured and printed, it will replace the painted portrait of the Fire Lord and Lady of the Moon which hangs in the atrium of the palace museum, accompanied by an exhibit about the science of this new art. 

Li is equal parts thrilled at the opportunity, and terrified that their new technology will fail. The first portraits had been successful, but a kooky old provincial king and a notoriously carefree Avatar were much less intimidating subjects. Lady Katara listens to Li’s explanation of the process with open fascination, but Fire Lord Zuko’s expression is perhaps best described as “inscrutable”.

“So, uh...that is...the general idea of what happens,” Li draws their presentation to a close, nearly fumbling the tripod tucked under their arm in the process.

“Fascinating!” Lady Katara says, applauding. When she realizes her husband’s expression, she elbows him and grins as she says, “Sokka’s gonna eat his own nasty socks when he finds out we got to try this out before him.”

“Yeah, exciting. My face, exactly like it is. Forever.” They almost don’t catch that part, and try not to let their eyes slip to the scar covering the Fire Lord’s eye. When Lady Katara rises from her throne to stand in front of her husband and cup his face, Li decides that it’s probably best that they start setting up and act like whatever conversation the couple is having isn’t happening. Even over the shuffle of equipment and the intense focus of putting it all together exactly right, Li hears snippets of the conversation echo in the throne room.

_Is it about..._

_No, that’s..._

_Then what..._

_...awkward…_

_...very handsome._

_...not…_

“Oh come on then, let’s just get it over with,” Lady Katara says, the rise of her voice clearly signaling the end of the private part of their conversation and the fact that she is declaring herself the victor of whatever debate had ensued.

The point is proven when the Fire Lord heaves a sigh and stands, allowing himself to be led by the hand from the thrones over to Li. “Where do you want us?” Lady Katara asks, and the idea of giving these people instructions feels so ludicrous, but Li summons confidence they do not remotely feel and gestures to a fountain built into the wall of the throne room - twin dragons twined around each other, one breathing an eternal flame and the other a stream of water.

“I thought the lighting here would be best.”

“Now everyone will see your gift and know what a romantic you are,” Lady Katara teases her husband, who - to Li’s continued shock - _blushes_ and grumbles,

“ _Katara_ ,” petulantly. She ignores his pouting and tugs him into place beside her, even going so far as to reach up and press the pad of her thumb to the crease between the Fire Lord’s eyebrows. His frown smooths out, and he even manages a smile…

...until he faces the camera itself and the smile turns into the most awkward grimace Li has ever seen. Half certain that they are about to be incinerated, Li clears their throat and says,

“Excuse me, Fire Lord Zuko, uh sir...it’s actually best if you keep a straight face for this. The exposure takes a while, and if you move, it gets blurry and…yeah.” The Fire Lord looks briefly relieved, before taking a deep breath and schooling his face into this intense and impassive regal expression from before. Beside him, Lady Katara takes his arm and faces the camera with her own piercing stare. Li might drop dead after being forced to weather both of their gazes for a full minute, but the image will radiate power, they can already feel it.

Ducking under the tent and taking up the control button, Li makes sure the lens is focused and prepares to start the exposure…

...and then the Fire Lord frowns and shifts uncomfortably.

“Oh for the love of -” Lady Katara exclaims, throwing her hands up and looking at her husband in exasperation. “What is it now?”

“It’s just weird!”

“What’s weird? The entire country is already covered in pictures of you. You’ve sat for dozens of portraits and those take hours!”

“I don’t have to be completely motionless during those! And it’s just a person, now there’s a whole...” he gestures to the camera, “ _thing_ involved and it feels weird! If Li wanted to paint me, that would be fine, but…”

“Well we’re doing this, it’s for educational purposes and we already promised the museum director. Unless _you_ feel like explaining why the centerpiece of the spring exhibits doesn’t exist -” he groans at the very thought of the fussy curator complaining about having to configure the displays, and Li really cannot deal with how surreal it is to see the Fire Lord acting so utterly human. “Just look at me,” she says at last, once again prodding at her husband until he has angled himself towards her and tilts his head down slightly to meet her eyes as she looks back up at him.

“I don’t know how that’s going to solve -”

“ _I could look at you for a thousand years and never tire of it_ ,” Lady Katara says in an eerily accurate impression of her husband. Li inhales some of their own spit trying not to laugh and attempts to muffle their choking so as not to call attention to the fact that they are very much still under the cape hearing and seeing the entire exchange.

“We were having a moment!”

“Seems like an awfully romantic statement for someone who apparently can’t stand the sight of me for a _minute_.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Oh no honey, I would never _question your honor_.”

“Alright, you want me to focus? I’ll show you focused.” 

Through the lens of the camera, Li watches the Fire Lord and the Lady of the Moon engage in an incredibly childish staring contest that lasts far less than a minute and leaves them both giggling. But when the laughter subsides, Fire Lord Zuko easily wraps his arms around his wife’s waist. She rests her hands on his chest, and as their eyes meet, Li presses the button to start capturing the image.

It is not the world’s first photograph, but it is the first one where the subjects are smiling.


End file.
